When Right is Wrong and Brown is Blue
by HJB
Summary: AU S1/S2. Chuck removed the Intersect from his head, but the NSA still wanted to kill him. Sarah hurt him to save him and disappeared from his life forever. Three years later, they're forced back together to solve an impossible puzzle.
1. Prologue: The world turns against you

_AN: So I posted this first chapter before, but didn't get much response, which kinda confirmed my feelings that I wasn't happy with it as a one-shot. I've revamped this chapter a bit and turned it into a longer story._

**Chapter 1**

* * *

**Gateways Hospital and Mental Health Center**

**Los Angeles, California**

**February 2009**

"Tell me again about these dreams you've been having," said a rather scholarly looking fellow.

"Let me out of this contraption first," another man said, struggling against the synthetic white cloth of his straight jacket. While his arms were confined by material, his ankles were secured with medical restraints to the legs of a stark, metal chair.

"I'm afraid I can't do that Mr. Bartowski. You attacked someone yesterday. We need to ensure the safety of our other patients and employees," explained the older man.

"He started it," Chuck said rather childishly.

Dr. Stewart sighed inwardly, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. It was clear that he was quickly losing patience with Charles Bartowski's lack of progress. He had to call upon all of his years of training to remain calm and professional.

Giving his restrained patient a chastising look, Dr. Stewart continued, "Your dreams Mr. Bartowski."

Chuck shook his head from side to side. "I'm not having any dreams," he assured.

"Then what of these wild tales of espionage that you weave?"

The metal chair scraped across the floor as Chuck fought against his bindings once more.

"They're not dreams or tales! They're reality!"

Tapping his pen lightly against the clipboard in his lap, Dr. Stewart pondered his next words very carefully. The patient in front of him was on precarious mental grounds. He needed to get Chuck to come to his own conclusions about the fantasy world he conjured.

"You work at a BuyMore Mr. Bartowski. What would the intelligence community want with you?"

"Haven't we been over this already," Chuck said, refusing to give up on his stubbornness.

"We have, but we haven't been able to come to terms with it. We're going to rehash it until we can figure out why you believe certain events happened."

"Fine," he said, losing the energy to be contradictory. He just wanted to go home and crawl into bed. Unfortunately, the curly haired man knew he would probably never see daylight again. It looked like Fulcrum had their hands on him and Sarah wasn't coming to the rescue. Their psychoanalysis routine was confusing, but it beat the possibility of torture.

In anticipation of breaking down barriers, Dr. Stewart shifted in his seat. "Let's start with this e-mail you received."

"It was my birthday. A very old friend sent it to me. I was curious so I opened it. There were things in that e-mail that I wasn't supposed to see. Federal agents showed up on my doorstep the next day. After deciding not to kill me, we agreed to work together. A year and a half later, you guys finally managed to capture me," Chuck recounted.

Scribbling on his clipboard paper, Dr. Stewart said, "We did no such thing Mr. Bartowski. You were remanded into our custody at the request of your family and the City of Los Angeles."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night you traitorous bastard," Chuck sneered.

"I sleep fine thanks for your concern," he said, knowing it was best not to feed a patient's anger at that particular point in therapy. "Now the story you just told me is the same one you've been telling for the weeks that you've been here. We can't make any progress if you don't let me help you."

"I don't want to make progress," Chuck countered.

"You'll never be released otherwise. Why don't you give me some hard details? Describe these agents that came to you or missions that you went on so that we can analyze them and see what they really mean," Dr. Stewart offered.

Chuck saw red. "If you think I'm giving up government secrets, you're crazier than you all claim I am."

"I am not the enemy Mr. Bartowski. We not all part of some great conspiracy or government cabal. Your own mind is the enemy. You've imagined this world where you're some sort of hero, but it's all a figment of your imagination."

Chuck started to shake. "It's real."

Exhausted, Dr. Stewart signaled the guard with a wave of his hand. "No it's not Mr. Bartowski. I wish it was though, for your sake, I wish it was."

The guard closed in on Chuck. He began to panic. "What are you doing? We still have forty-five minutes."

"Not today. We can't get anywhere until you're willing to explore these fantasies more intimately," he said, getting up out of his seat.

Chuck was beside himself, as the guard bent down to undo his restraints. "You're going to kill me aren't you. You've finally realized that you can't use the gift I have so you're going to dispose of me," he screamed.

"No, Mr. Bartowski, we're not. You're going to go back to your room and take your medication," Dr. Stewart said, tearing off a piece of paper and handing it to the guard. "Make sure the nurse gets this. We need to up his meds."

The guard nodded, slipping the paper into his shirt pocket. He turned towards Chuck and was immediately knocked off of his feet. Chuck had leapt from his chair and bowled into the burly man's midsection. Rolling onto his back, the guard groaned as he saw the patient fleeing towards the door. Getting to his feet as quickly as possible, the guard pressed a button on the wall.

"We've got a patient on the loose. Number 817. Name is Charles Bartowski. Last seen in Therapy Room B. Use caution on approach. He is identified as dangerous. Acceptable force only," he said into the intercom.

Personnel all over the facility heard his announcement and went on alert.

The guard turned to Dr. Stewart who had been stunned to inaction by the series of events. "You ever going to make any progress with that nut job?"

Dr. Stewart frowned at the guard. "He's our patient, not a nut job. Psychotic breaks are hard to heal."

"He's got a visitor today. I saw her in the lobby."

The doctor nodded his confirmation. "I don't think it's a good idea, but someone with much higher authority sanctioned it so he gets to see her."

Meanwhile, Chuck was trying his best to navigate his way out of the prison. He had yet to encounter anyone, which bolstered his confidence, but he got the distinct feeling he was going in circles. The fact that his upper body was awkwardly confined didn't help matters. Approaching a corner, he proceeded cautiously. He extended his neck as far as it would go and peeked into the adjacent hallway. Seeing the two guards, he quickly retreated. It wasn't fast enough, however. They saw him and were immediately in hot pursuit. Chuck silently cursed to himself. The guards spoke into their radios, relaying their location.

"Stop now Bartowski, before someone gets hurt," one of the men shouted.

"Never," Chuck said, looking over his shoulder at them.

Rounding another corner, Chuck came face to face with two more guards. He was trapped.

"Crap," he said.

The guards pursuing him finally caught up to the action. His head swiveled back and forth between the pairs.

"Give it up 817. Let's just get you back to your room and we can forget this ever happened," suggested the guard to his left.

Chuck pondered his proposition briefly before shaking his head. "I don't think so," he said, leaping at the space in-between the pair in an attempt to escape once again. Before he could get very far, he felt two tiny pricks in his side and then a world of pain. Falling to the floor, he screamed and convulsed. The pain went away as quickly as it had come, but Chuck still had small tremors coursing through his body.

Two guards positioned themselves on either side of his prone form and hoisted him to his feet. A third man removed the stun gun clips from Chuck's side. "Sorry man, but you gave us no choice," he said.

Those words seemed to jolt Chuck back to reality. He blindly struggled against the hands holding him. They ignored his attempts and dragged him down the hallway, towards his room.

"No…let me go, let me go….help…someone help me."

His screams echoed through the corridor until he was safely ensconced inside of his room. Only then did a figure emerge from the shadows. The tall woman had tears in her eyes. She'd witnessed everything that had happened to the crazed man. It tore at her soul. She had been a party to Chuck's commitment. She would never forgive herself.

Following the path that the quintet had just taken, she came to a panel of one-way glass. She watched in horror as two men secured Chuck's feet to the end of his bed. The other two held his shoulders to the mattress, while a nurse forced pills and other medication down his throat. He fought the entire time, moving his body any which way.

Wiping the moisture from her eyes, the woman fought regain her composure as the personnel made their way out of the room. The guards left immediately, but the nurse stopped to speak with her.

"Can I see him now," she asked.

"You can," the older woman said, looking through the glass at her patient. "Please use caution. Push the button on the wall if you need any help."

The taller woman shook her head in understanding. "Thank you."

The nurse briefly put a comforting hand on her shoulder, before disappearing into another room. Taking a moment to summon her courage, she stared intently at the man inside of the room. He was sitting upright in the bed. His feet were still secured to the bedposts, but his upper body was free of similar restraint. He just stared out into space. Eyes that were once filled with inextinguishable joy, were now void of emotion. Heaving a giant breath, the woman quickly entered the room. Anything but a hasty entrance would have given too much time to reconsideration.

"Chuck," she said, closing the door behind her. Her hand remained on the knob, gripping it tightly. It was a temporary lifeline.

The man on the bed slowly turned his head in her direction. As realization of who stood before him dawned, a spark lit in his eyes.

"Ellie," he choked out. His throat was still hoarse from screaming. "Is it really you?"

Once more, tears welled up in her eyes. It was the first time she'd seen her brother in over a month. She wasn't sure how he'd react to her presence, but she nearly passed out when he gave her one of his brilliant smiles. Letting go of the doorknob, she rushed to his bed, flinging her arms around him. Chuck tried to reciprocate her emotion, however, he could do nothing more than bury his face in her neck.

Pulling back from their embrace, Chuck hit Ellie with a questioning gaze.

"What are you doing here? I thought I'd never see you again…wait…did they kidnap you? Did they hurt you?"

Chuck did his best to assess his sister's health with his eyes. Ellie quickly attempted to allay his fears.

"No one hurt me Chuck. I came here of my own free will. Some of the doctors thought I might be able to help you," she explained, brushing a piece of curly hair off of his forehead.

Chuck pulled away from her hand. "That doesn't make any sense," he said.

Ellie moved closer to him once again, challenging him to listen to what she had to say.

"Sweetie, you've had what doctors call a psychotic break. I'm sorry I didn't see it at first. We could have gotten you help more quickly."

Chuck looked down at his bed and back up at Ellie. He tried to process what she was telling him but it didn't make any sense. She was saying the same things as Dr. Stewart, who was obviously a member of Fulcrum. The dots didn't connect with his reality.

"What?"

"Something happened to you and you mentally broke. You created this world so that you weren't burdened by the real one. I finally figured it out when you tried to kill our neighbor, Mr. Knosh," Ellie explained.

"But Sarah and Casey…"

Ellie placed her hands on Chuck's face, forcing his to look her in the eyes. Once she was sure she had his attention, she continued.

"We don't know anyone named Sarah or Casey, at least in real life. They were the main characters in that video game you always talked about. Don't you remember?"

Chuck shifted in his bed, shaking his head. "I got an e-mail. It had secrets…"

Placing her hands in her lap, Ellie prepared herself to explain the hardest part. "Bryce did send you an e-mail Chuck, but it wasn't full of government secrets. It was full of pictures, pictures of he and Jill. The pompous ass just wanted to gloat. You…you couldn't handle it. I think that's why you created this world where you got the girl and saved the country. At least that's my own analysis of the situation," she said, rambling towards the end.

Silence permeated the room. Ellie waited on pins and needles for Chuck to give some kind of reaction. Instead, he just stared at her with his mouth ajar.

Finally deciding to prod him, she said, "Chuck."

His mouth snapped shut, before opening once more to say, "Get out."

Ellie was shocked. "What?"

He flung himself against the wall in an attempt to get away from his sister. "I don't believe you. You're one of them aren't you?"

Ellie tried to comfort him, but the look in his eyes told her to think otherwise. "I'm not one of 'them' Chuck. I'm your sister and I just want you to get better."

He would have none of her compassion. "Get out," he yelled.

"Fine, I'll go, but you need to wake up and stop waiting for someone to come to your rescue. Save yourself and stop with this crazy spy stuff."

Ellie marched to the door, threw it open, and burst into the hallway. Instead of closing the door, she let physics do its thing and turned to the women standing in front of the glass. Shock coursed through her at the sight of the blond haired agent.

"I hope you're happy Sarah or whatever your name is."

Sarah Walker looked Ellie in the eyes. "You know I'm not, but this was the only way. Beckman was issuing a termination order no matter what. Chuck had the Intersect out of his head, but he still had his memories of the mission, of myself, and of Major Casey."

"So you decide to make him think he's insane," Ellie yelled. Thankfully, Chuck's room was very well insulated.

"You agreed to it Ellie. This way, the CIA has leverage over the NSA and their kill order. I could have stopped Casey and I would have, but they would just keep sending people after him. Someone would have gotten to him eventually, no matter how good I was," Sarah assured.

"I didn't agree to this. I agreed to help because I knew you would do it no matter what. I thought it would be easier for him if I was at least able to visit," Ellie ground out angrily.

She quickly looked through the glass at Chuck's shaking form. He had started talking to himself. Ellie's anger faded to sorrow.

"Maybe it would have been better…"

The blond haired woman looked at her fiercely. "No! He will be fine. He will get out of here. All evidence of his commitment will be destroyed. He can go back to a normal life. He'll be safe," Sarah argued.

Ellie didn't really agree with the younger woman's assessment, but she was too busy watching her actions to counter. Sarah had turned her gaze back to Chuck. She unconsciously placed her hand against the glass. Chuck looked directly at her. There was no way he could see them, but he must have sensed something. Seeing his reaction, Sarah hastily removed her hand.

"You love him don't you," Ellie asked.

Sarah looked at her sadly. "It doesn't matter now."

Ellie let the topic drop. She was fairly confident she knew the answer, but Sarah was right about the fact that it no longer mattered.

"I have to go," Sarah said.

Ellie's fury returned with a vengeance.

"Another mission?"

"Yes," Sarah said bluntly.

"You're not even going to stick around to make sure he survives?"

Sarah turned to face her former asset's sister. "Even if I did stay, there's not much I can do. I have orders."

"The same kind of orders that would have compelled you and Casey to kill my brother," Ellie spat.

"I do what I have to do. Your brother understood that. I'll check in on him. I promise," Sarah said quietly, turning around and heading towards the exit.

Ellie stared at her retreating figure. Deciding to make one last effort to sway the operative, Ellie let her voice loose in the hallway.

"It shouldn't have happened like this. Why couldn't you have left him alone? He loved you. Why did you ruin his life?"

Sarah continued walking. Ellie couldn't see them, but tears were falling down her cheeks. She heard the sound of Ellie crumpling to the floor. It took all of her training to push the exit door open. Special Agent Sarah Walker would never again see Chuck Bartowski.

"He's a good person," Ellie cried to the air.

"He was a good person."


	2. When Karma Gives You The Finger

**Three Years Later**

**Somewhere in Maryland**

A petite woman clicked her heels as quickly as they would go without bursting into a full on sprint. Flashing her badge at the appropriate people, she breezed through the hallways of a nondescript building. The woman came to a stop just before her pathway dead ended. She pressed her thumb against a device by the door's handle. Several beeps sounded before a final click was heard. The door cracked open, permitting the woman to enter a room jokingly titled 'We Are Smarter Than A Fifth Grader'.

Sweeping into the busy space, the woman barely gave time to the rows of computers and people. Instead, she made a direct path for the elevated office sitting beyond the mayhem. Taking the stairs two at a time, she entered the office without a courtesy knock.

"What's going on," she asked, slightly breathless.

There were two other people in the room. One was a distinguished looking middle aged man. The other was a twenty something guy with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

The older man spoke first, tilting his head, "Swan here tells me that we've got a Code Gray on the program."

Her lips forming a grim line, the woman looked to the younger fellow disbelievingly. "Did you triple check?"

The man nodded his head fervently. "I've focused all our resources on it since I discovered the error this morning. I even ran the data through our high success assets. No one can get a handle on this information."

The older man sat down in his chair, drawing the woman's attention. "What exactly does this mean Bob," she inquired.

Bob looked toward his younger associate who indicated his agreement with a heave of his chest. Their silent conversation finished, Bob slowly laid his hands on the arms of his chair. "It means that we have a connection so intricate that it renders our most powerful intelligence resources inept."

Shifting on his feet, the younger man finished his boss's line of thought. "There's more Susan," he said.

Susan looked at him expectantly. Her stomach dropped at the implications. Something big was going on and the U.S. intelligence community was essentially blind.

"The computer is so caught up in this bit of data that it can't handle anything else. It's perpetually trying to piece together an invisible puzzle."

Susan got the hint, but years working for the government told her that she needed straight talk if she was going to take the actions that she was considering. "Meaning?"

Bob took the reins, saying, "The Beta Intersect has failed."

Susan blanched at his bluntness. "We have to contact Director Graham."

**Central Intelligence Agency Headquarters**

**Langley, Virginia**

Sarah Walker, Deputy Director of North American Field Operations, was not a happy camper. She had been awakened at 1 A.M. by Art Graham's secretary and told to get to the office faster than a jet plane. Since her promotion, wake up calls had been almost non-existent. It was that fact that had her so on edge. Something serious was causing the stir. Her lack of sleep could easily be remedied another day, but she had a feeling there were more sleepless nights ahead.

Stopping in front of two metal doors, Sarah punched her access code into the elevator's keypad. The doors smoothly glided along their tracks, admitting the lone female passenger. Depressing the button for floor 30, she was once again prompted for her code. Only a select few employees were allowed on the top floor without an escort. Sarah Walker was one of those few, which gave her an air of authority as she stepped out of the metal box, into a circular waiting area. Her authority was all for naught, however. The floor appeared to be deserted.

With slightly more caution, the agent headed toward the Director of Central Intelligence's office. One could never be too careful, even in the home of the world's greatest intelligence agency. Infiltration and hostage situations were never entirely outside of the realm of possibility.

Director Graham's secretary, Martha, was not at her desk, putting the former field agent on even higher alert. It was only for the most sensitive information that subordinates were dismissed from duty. Sarah knew that the information for which she was about to be briefed would only ever be heard by a handful of individuals. Hell, the president might not ever be privy to the knowledge she was about to gain.

Sarah's steps hastened, as she wondered why her superiors would contact someone of her station. Being where she was, at her age, was no small feat, but it was still fairly low on the managerial pecking order. A year ago, she had been close to handing in her letter of resignation, until she had been given second chair of the newly created North America division. Canada had never been a hotspot for malicious activity and Mexico was always lumped together with South America. She'd been told, however, that lax border security on both sides had led to an increase in threatening activity, hence a reallocation of resources.

Physical and emotional scars from a disastrous mission in Europe kept her out of the field and tied to a desk. She wasn't cut out to be a paper pusher and felt like a lame duck in the agency. Seeing the very real possibility that they could lose one of their most brilliant agents, Sarah's bosses offered her a hefty raise and promises of occasional field missions. It didn't take much more to convince her to stay in the spy game. It was the only thing at which she'd ever been successful.

A quick rap on the reinforced, bulletproof door merited a curt 'enter' from the office's occupant. The room was almost identical to what it had been when she first laid eyes upon it seven years ago, as a newly minted Special Agent. Its decade long keeper was a bit more weathered looking since that day, but he still emitted the distinct aura of power.

"You called for me, sir," Sarah said, coming to stand beside one of the two guest chairs.

Art Graham tore his gaze from the Virginia skyline and motioned for his agent to take a seat. She obeyed his request, patiently waiting for truths to be revealed, despite her overwhelming desire to demand information.

Sensing that her superior was being unusually quiet, Sarah prodded his tongue. "Not that I mind nighttime wakeup calls, but they are certainly unusual….sir."

Graham gave Sarah a ghost of a smile.

"I'm sure you remember that very special assignment you were dispatched to in September of 2007, Walker," Graham said, as delicately as possible. His detached face with his agents didn't mean that he wasn't aware of the things they went through on missions. He had been in their places many eons prior.

Sarah's stomach dropped. She had absolutely every idea to what he was referring. Since that mission's end three years ago, her mind tried and failed everyday to kill its lingering memories. With a single sentence, her direct contact on that mission brought it all crashing back to the forefront. Training enabled her to keep the reaction incognito or so she thought.

Art Graham didn't get to the post CIA figurehead for being able to juggle. He could read people like the back of his hand. His instincts were still firmly in place. Sarah Walker did not like where the conversation was heading, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. He cared for her as much as he could in his position, but some things were more important.

"Walker," he said, to snap her out of her ponderings.

Sarah held back her shock at the interruption in her thoughts, answering, "Yes, of course I remember."

"And you remember why it ended?"

Sarah swallowed. "Absolutely. The Beta Intersect was completed and deemed a success," she said, repeating verbatim General Beckman's words when she and Casey were debriefed.

Graham adjusted his tie, breaking their eye contact. "Yes..well it seems that we may have been a bit premature."

Sarah's gaze sharpened. Her eyes flashed briefly with anger. She silently willed the man before her to meet her gaze once more. Her attempt failed, however, and she reverted back to the use of language. "What does that mean exactly? We've been using it with success for the past three years."

"It has been locked in on a singular chain of information for the past twenty hours. In short, the computer has broken. We are no longer using it as a primary means of intelligence gathering. We're not using it for anything actually," he said, with a slight chuckle at the end. The CIA man had never been quite as eager to rely solely on the computer, which is why he took it upon himself to investigate its possibilities outside of the National Security Agency's radar.

"So it's too fine of a connection or too large an amount of information for the computer to handle? Why don't you just use some of our other analysts," Sarah suggested, with a bit of disdain. She had discovered her boss's continuation of the Human Intersect project shortly after her promotion. It had infuriated her at the time, but she knew from her experience that it wasn't as dangerous as some other agencies feared.

Graham let the insubordination go without rebuke. It was nothing compared to the reaction he expected when he revealed the mission to her.

"Trust me, that was the first thing we tried. Several of the agents fell ill from repeatedly trying to break the code. None of them were able to tell us what it all points to. There's something dangerous brewing, I can feel it. This failure is not what we need," he explained.

Sarah sighed. The Intersect assets were touchy subjects for her. She hated using their information and almost never went to their facility, unless it was unavoidable.

"What does this have to do with me? I'm no longer part of this. I set up stakeouts and assassinations now," she said, wanting to get to the point swiftly.

"Myself and several other people in the know have gone over our options. We've come up with a scenario that we think gives us out best shot at success. It's actually our only shot and you have intimate knowledge of the subject," Graham informed, being unusually evasive.

Sarah was tired of the games. "Could you not be so vague, sir. I'm not a mind reader, despite my sparkling record at intent recognition."

Graham took a pregnant pause and proceeded to unload his bombshell. "We're recalling Chuck Bartowski and we need you to bring him in."

The younger agent's jaw literally dropped. The utterance of a name caused a wave of heat to flood her body. Tears threatened her eyes. It had been three years, but the pain of leaving Chuck the way she did was still very raw. She saw his shaking form every night before she went to sleep. The regret was so strong that she didn't think the ache would ever diminish. Despite all of that, she remained firm in her conviction that it was the only way to save him from a swift death at the NSA's hand. Now, Director Graham was telling her that her greatest sacrifice was about to be undone. There weren't words to describe her emotions.

"No," she said softly, trying to gather her bearings.

The older man expected several reactions, but Sarah Walker's timid refusal of her assignment was not on his list of plausible scenarios.

"Excuse me?"

Sarah shot out of her chair, crossing the room until she was flush with the other side of Art Graham's desk. Aggressively, she leaned over the wooden plane. "I won't let you do it. I won't let this agency march back into his life and turn it upside down. We've already put him through enough. Come up with some other scenario," she ordered, with a hard edge to her voice.

That was the kind of reaction that the CIA Director expected. It wasn't welcome, but he had prepared himself for it. Walker was nothing if not passionate.

Graham shook his head in regret. "I'm sorry Sarah, but my benefits package trumps yours. Bartowski's test results were always off of the charts. Our new agents have never come close to his success rate. Either you do it or we send someone else who will most likely be less delicate about things."

Sarah knew a threat when she heard one. If she didn't agree to the agency's terms, Chuck would most likely be abducted in the middle of the night and put in some padded cell, another padded cell.

"There has to be someone else," Sarah pleaded, her emotions clearly evident in her voice and in her eyes.

It was at that point in time that Art Graham confirmed his suspicions about his agent's feelings toward the affable former Intersect. When she fought so passionately to squash the kill order, he assumed that her feelings for the asset went farther than professional courtesy, but the evidence wasn't tangible enough. The new revelation made things easier and harder at the same time. He had a lot of work to do over the next few weeks.

"I'm afraid there aren't any other options on the table," he said, passing Sarah a file folder. She took it numbly. "Your flight leaves in four hours. The asset has relocated to San Diego. Be ready to stay for a few days. You are to convince him to come back to Washington so that we can upload the data and solve this problem. Good luck"

Sarah Walker didn't know how she got there, but she quickly found herself standing outside of Director Graham's office, with a manila folder in her hands. Opening it briefly, she realized that it was Chuck's file. A picture of him graced the first page. He had that almost smiling look on his face. Her heart hurt. She felt feint.

Sarah Walker was once again going to turn Chuck's life upside down.


	3. When Sunshine Can't Solve Your Problems

_AN: Thanks for all the great feedback. I think I made the right decision by extending this story. This chapter is..idk, necessary. I hope I didn't get too bogged down in useless detail._

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**San Diego, California**

At a little after ten o'clock pacific time, Sarah Walker departed the San Diego International Airport with nothing more than a duffle bag in hand. She didn't expect to be in town for more than a few days and there were always Laundromats to be found in populated areas. Following the instruction that she received shortly after joining the Agency, she packed two sets of clothes for every occasion, from casual to formal. The preparation was mundane, for the most part, however, it took a decidedly darker turn when she opened up the top drawer of her dresser. It was the one that contained her lingerie, or seduction attire, as she often called it. Training told her that it was always a wise choice for missions, but Chuck had never been a run of the mill assignment.

From the moment she met the curly haired man, she'd gone off script. She said and did things that she never would have done with any other asset or mark. Chuck wasn't indispensable. He wormed his way into her life, which was a huge faux pas for a handler to make. The agent in her gave up fighting it two months into the assignment. She never let things get overly unprofessional, but she didn't fight Chuck's successful attempt to steal her heart.

The lingerie was left at home. Considering the fact that Chuck thought she didn't exist and the way in which she left, Sarah couldn't foresee any instance where she would use it to get him back to Washington. She had learned from her time in Los Angeles that there were some lines you just didn't cross.

Half of the flight to California was spent fighting her emotions, as she filtered through her memories of Chuck and his pack of family and friends. It was a fairly convoluted situation for an agent to experience. From the second an agent signed his contract, it was beaten into them that personal attachments led to death in the field. Sarah was willing to bet that her instructor had never met such a willfully strong and loving bunch of people like those with which Chuck surrounded himself. It was hard to stay detached when readily and wholly accepted into such a circle.

The rest of the trip in the Boeing aircraft was used to get into the right frame of mind. There wasn't a large threat of danger looming over her time in San Diego, but the objective was too important to let emotions rule the day. Sarah didn't want to be cold, but it appeared that times were too dire to be kind. Much of it would have to be played by ear. She needed to physically see what kind of shape Chuck was in. Files never told the entire story. They were filled with facts and logistical information, not frames of mind.

Her first task was to observe her subjects from afar. For that, she needed a car. The CIA gave her a confirmation number for a car rental, so she hopped on one of the airports continually running busses. Normally, the Agency would have one of their specially equipped cars waiting for her at the curb. Sarah was so uncomfortable by the change in procedure that she called Art Graham's secure home phone. Apparently, the net of knowledge was smaller than she assumed. Only three people knew about the mission, Sarah Walker, Art Graham, and Susan Webber, the head of the Intersect project. Word could not get out to the other agencies or all hell could break loose.

Sarah put on the charm for the male rental car attendant and was on the road in under a half of an hour. The gray Ford Taurus definitely wasn't her preferred mode of transportation, but it was much more inconspicuous than her Porsche. Even though it was too late in the morning to catch Chuck at home, she decided to do reconnaissance before their inevitable meeting.

Pulling up to the specified address, the hardened operative couldn't help but think of it as quaint. The neighborhood was lined with trees and houses. They weren't McMansions, thankfully. The structures had character and history. In a yard across the street, she saw a little girl chasing a dog. She was trying to catch its tail. Unbidden, a blurred image of a similarly aged girl with curly brown ringlets and blue eyes came to her mind. The picture quickly disappeared, however, as Sarah careened out of the car. Sitting on the hood, she ran an agitated hand through her hair.

"Get a hold of yourself Walker," she demanded to the air.

Pressing her palms against the car's hot, metal surface, she hoisted her body off of the vehicle. Her steps toward the house's porch were smooth, as if she belonged there. That was, after all, the impression an agent always attempted to give. Fishing through her pocket for the proper tools, Sarah stopped in front of the door and acted as if she was unlocking it with a set of keys. Her crime was committed in under thirty seconds. Shutting the door quietly behind her, the agent took an appraising look at the interior.

It wasn't pretentious or gaudy, like many of the other upper middle class dwellings. If Sarah were forced to classify it, she'd have said smart casual. It was very inviting. She allowed herself a minute to look at the photos lining the walls and coffee tables. Every time she laid eyes on Chuck's photographic self, she felt a stabbing pain, but she couldn't force her eyes away. It also disturbed her deeply that Chuck looked devoid of life in many of them. His smile never quite reached his eyes.

Checking her watch, Sarah realized that her time to study the home was dwindling. Ellie and Devin were due to get off of work at noon. She needed to place her sensors and locate all possible escape routes. The task was completed with efficiency that only the CIA's former top operative could achieve. She was about to take the liberty of searching Chuck's room when she heard a car door closing outside. She hastened to the upstairs hall window and peeked through the blinds. The well tanned face of Captain Awesome greeted her gaze.

"Shit," Sarah muttered to herself.

High tailing it for a window in the back of the house, she heard the front door open. Devin's footfalls echoed through the hallways, along with the notes to whatever pop song he was attempting to sing. When Sarah reached her destination, she threw the window open without hesitation. Sticking her head out, she glanced from side to side. Her position was about twenty-five feet off of the ground, which was bit higher than her preferred jumping distance. Most likely, she could have made it, but a drainage pipe to the left of the open window provided adequate handhold for a downward scaling of the wall.

Swinging one leg over the edge, Sarah pushed her body outside of the home's protective barrier. Once she had a firm grip on the pipe, she began to shimmy toward the ground. Unfortunately, the structure wasn't as secure as she first thought. The pipe began to separate from the siding, a little more than halfway through her descent. Deciding the risk of discovery was greater if the thing actually jumped out of its restraints, Sarah leapt to the ground.

"Omph," she groaned, landing on her back, "I'm definitely a bit rusty."

The trip to her feet was quick. She made a swift dash for her car, making sure to check for any unwanted observers. Getting inside the vehicle, she breathed a sigh of relief and started the engine. She drove normally, until she reached the main road, at which point she floored it, pushing the sedan to its limits.

**BuyMore Plaza**

Sarah killed the engine, as she glided into her parking space outside of the electronics conglomerate. The scare with Devin put her on edge, but driving always calmed her nerves. Her first encounter with Chuck was the part of her mission that she dreaded the most, but it was a necessary evil. She wasn't going to have a face to face with him until that evening. Her task at the BuyMore was to simply get a visual on him. She needed some sense of his demeanor and psyche. There was no way she could pass through the store's automatic doors. The Nerd Herder would recognize her in an instant. Instead, she planned to hack the building's security cameras and observe his behavior.

Reaching into her computer bag, Sarah's body stiffened. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a mop of brown hair exiting the store. Focusing all of her attention on the disturbance, she was able to confirm her suspicions that the warm body was, in fact, Chuck Bartowski. Her heart dropped and then proceeded to run a marathon. She realized too late that the tall man was on a direct path for her car. Her mouth went dry. The highly trained woman was frozen. She remained crouched over inside of her sedan, as Chuck neared. She thought for sure that he had seen her, but seconds passed and he continued right past her driver's side door.

Relief and regret flooded Sarah's body. She yearned deeply to be in Chuck's presence once more, but she wasn't ready at that point in time. Shifting her muscles, she maneuvered in a way that allowed her to see Chuck's destination. It seemed like he was walking aimlessly, paying attention to very little. Soon enough, however, he reached to other end of the plaza and proceeded into an eatery. Sarah flicked her gaze to the shop's sign. Thankfully, it said 'Barry's Subs'.

Feeling uneasy about her security, Sarah immediately removed the laptop from it case. She then slipped on sunglasses and a hat. Powering up the machine, Sarah set about tapping into all available security cameras. The first one she studied gave her a direct view of the restaurant Chuck entered. She didn't wand to again be caught unaware. Thirty minutes after her arrival, Chuck reentered the BuyMore. He proceeded past the Nerd Herd desk, into the storeroom. Sarah quickly typed, attempting to switch cameras.

Chuck stepped into 'The Cage' and placed himself behind a desk full of computer parts and accessories. Sarah watched him for over an hour. Most of his work time was spent staring into nothingness, although he did manage to repair a computer. His seclusion and lethargy mystified Sarah, but realizing that she would be confronting Chuck in less than two hours, she closed up shop. So that she could wash up and calm her nerves, Sarah steered the car towards the nearest hotel,

**Bartowski Residence**

Pulling into the charming neighborhood once more, Sarah mentally went over her plan for the evening. She wanted to catch Chuck before he went inside of the house. Ellie and Devin were already home, which wasn't ideal, but she could handle it. Sarah pondered the possibility that the married couple may even be able to help her mission. They could more easily facilitate Chuck's return to the spy world by helping her convince him she was telling the truth.

Seeing the Herder's headlights coming toward her from the other end of the street, Sarah's hands tensed around the steering wheel. She took a quick look at herself in the mirror before exiting the car. She needed to get in place before Chuck made it to the porch. The setting sun gave her confidence take the journey at a blazing pace. She saw Chuck shut his car door. Slipping into the shadows, she waited for her opportunity. Chuck was carrying something in his hands. It was hard to make out from her distance, but she thought it was a takeout container. Sarah didn't know why she cared about what was in his hands, but it kept her mind occupied.

Chuck had gained ten feet on her position. Once he moved beyond her, she stepped into the open space of the sidewalk. Her heart was beating faster than a rabbit on steroids, but she knew what she had to do.

"Chuck," she called.

He stopped dead in his tracks. His muscles tensed, as if he could sense the danger that the woman's voice carried. After what seemed like an eternity, her pivoted to face Sarah. His mouth dropped open, as recognition lit in his eyes. The Styrofoam container in his hands fell to the ground. Sauce and spaghetti littered the concrete surface.

Sarah didn't notice any on those event. She kept her eyes locked with Chuck's, trying to communicate. He broke her connection, taking a step back.

"You're not real," he whispered.

Sarah took a step towards him, extending her hand.

"You're a figment of my imagination," he said loudly this time.

Sarah shook her head, dropping her hand at the comprehension that things were very precarious. In the back of her mind, Sarah always foolishly hoped that 'her' Chuck would come back at the mere sight of her familiar face.

"I can't imagine what you must think, but I'm real Chuck. I need your help. The country needs you," she said, trying to appeal to his good nature instead.

The shock on his face would have made her laugh four years ago. That day, however, it hurt. Chuck started mumbling to himself before turning on his heel and bolting into the house.

"Well, that went well," Sarah deadpanned.

The woman turned CIA operative stepped over the fallen food and followed Chuck into the three-story home.


	4. When Intentions Slap You In The Face

_AN: Thanks again for the great feedback. We should start getting to the good stuff next chapter. I did proofread a few times, but let me know of any glaring mistakes._

* * *

**Bartowski Residence**

Chuck clambered through the oak door, locking the deadbolt behind him. Continually looking over his shoulder, he searched the house for his sister. He finally managed to find her in the kitchen. Ellie looked up from her chopping, sensing his presence. The smile she gave him quickly turned into a frown at his agitated state. Chuck stopped at the threshold between the living room and the kitchen. He looked to the entrance of the house and back at his sister.

"What's wrong sweetie," Ellie asked in a concerned tone, putting down her tools and taking steps toward her brother.

Chuck looked to his feet, summoning courage. "I know you're not going to believe me, but-"

Ellie closed the distance between the siblings, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "You can tell me," she urged.

Chuck took a deep breath. Blowing it out, he said, "I just saw Sarah outside."

Ellie let go of his arm, bringing her hand to her hip. She clenched the other hand in anger at the lies that she frequently had to tell. It hurt her deeply to reinforce Chuck's feeling that he was 'crazy'. "Honey, we've been over this so many times. Sarah isn't outside. She's not in a cab or a restaurant or a hotel. Sarah Walker doesn't exist. I really thought you were getting back to normal."

"But I was carrying the food and she came out of nowhere. She called my name," he said, trailing off towards the end, not sure what to believe.

Ellie was about to contradict him when she heard a commotion at the front door. She nearly fell over when the head of blond hair entered her home. Not knowing what was going on, but realizing that it couldn't be good, Ellie moved Chuck behind her.

"I told you," Chuck childishly muttered.

Ellie whipped her head around to look him in the eyes. Her gaze was full of anger, sorrow, and fear. "Go to your room now. Lock the door," she ordered.

By that time, Sarah had made her way to the pair. She heard Ellie's command. It hurt that they were both so scared of her presence, but she shouldn't have expected anything different. At that point in time, Sarah regretted not making contact with Ellie before confronting Chuck. The taller woman looked murderous.

"Don't go Chuck. We need to talk," Sarah pleaded.

"Go Chuck," Ellie reiterated.

Chuck was torn. He looked back and forth between the two woman. One was his fiercely loyal sister. The other was a woman purported to be a figment of his imagination. Her presence caused all types of knots in his stomach. His head hurt from trying to put the proverbial pieces together.

"Now!" Ellie screamed, breaking him out of his reverie.

With one last glance toward the enigmatic special agent, Chuck scampered into his room. Ellie was his sister. Chuck knew that she always had his best interests at heart. Sarah moved to follow him, but Ellie blocked her path. The blond gave an exasperated sigh.

"I need to talk to him Ellie. Time is of the essence. You don't understand," Sarah said, trying to sway the doctor to her side.

"I think I understand quite clearly. You and your agency want to swoop into his life again and use him. I'm not going to let that happen," Ellie said, moving backwards, towards the island. Never losing sight of Sarah, she reached behind her body and clasped the chopping knife between her fingers. Like some cheesy scene out of a B rate horror movie, Ellie brought the instrument of death forward. Surprise and then amusement flittered through Sarah's eyes.

"Put the knife down Ellie. You're not going to hurt me and I don't want to hurt you or Chuck," Sarah volunteered, trying to diffuse the situation.

"The Ellie you knew years ago wouldn't have, but things have changed. You changed us for the worse. There are so many things I want to do to you," Ellie said, seeming to slightly lose her grip on reality.

Sarah was tired. She was tired of feeling guilty about her decisions to save Chuck. She was tired of Ellie Bartowski hating her. For years, she felt the woman's hate radiating across the continent to her little home in the suburbs of D.C.

"I tried to save him. It's not standard procedure, but we often use mental facilities to reintroduce sensitive assets safely into society," Sarah defended.

Ellie was having none of Sarah's nonsense, replying " Because that makes it better?"

"He's still alive isn't he," Sarah stated, incredulously.

"And what a life he has. He's still living with his sister at thirty years old because of his continual breakdowns and panic attacks. We had to leave L.A., leave his friends because they too had memories of you. He can't even interact with the public. BuyMore has relegated him to the storage room. They're very close to firing him. He's an emotional wreak," Ellie said, getting more animated as her rant continued. The knife caught light radiating from the ceiling fixture. The reflection triggered something strange inside of Sarah.

"The alternative was death. Would that have been better." Sarah countered, moving closer to Ellie. Confused, Ellie just stood still. Sarah had a crazed look on her face. She stopped inches from Chuck's sister. Grabbing the woman's wrist, Sarah thrust the knife towards her stomach. She stopped it just before it could do damage, looking at Ellie intently.

"If his death would have been better, I want you to do it. Stab me. Kill me, because I did the hardest thing I've ever had to do and it was all for naught. I don't want to live like that," she said, pushing the knife harder against her body. She felt it break through her clothing and pierce her skin, but the agent didn't care. She had never been afraid of death, not when there was nothing in life to hold on to.

A jolt passed through Ellie's body at the thought. She had been ready to kill when Sarah walked into the house, but seeing the woman's pained eyes did something to her resolve. Ellie realized that Sarah truly didn't understand the consequences of her actions. "It is when you're told that the love of your life never existed," Ellie replied, hoping to finally reach the stubborn agent.

Her tactic worked. Sarah visibly recoiled, leaning back against the wall. Her face went pale. Ellie deflated at the younger woman's reaction. She lowered the knife to her side. Her adrenaline was suddenly gone. She felt like she could sleep for one hundred years.

Sensing that Sarah was speechless, Ellie continued, "He saw you everywhere, at least he thought he did. I can't tell you how many times I had to apologize for him, like he was some kind of invalid. He got well enough for the doctors at the hospital to release him, but he never really recovered."

Sarah shook her head. "I had no idea. I thought he would be ok."

"You thought a termination order was the worst thing that could happen to him. I get it, but that's the problem with you people. You only see the outside, the immediate results. You decided too quickly," Ellie said.

"It all happened very quickly," Sarah reasoned. There hadn't been much time at all for her to formulate a plan. Casey had always been an efficient assassin.

Ellie decided to take a small bit of pity on the conflicted person before her, saying, "Look, I'd never really wish for my brother's death. It's just that I wouldn't wish the life he has now on anyone, not even you and I really don't like you at this point in time."

Sarah opened her mouth to respond, but never go the chance. A crashing sound erupted inside of the house. Both woman looked at each other in a panic and rushed to Chuck's room. Ellie got there first, throwing the door open. Chuck was kneeling over a tray of split pills. Ellie put a comforting hand on his shoulder, bending down to help him clean the mess. Sarah stood stunned, in the doorway. Chuck's room was nothing like the Los Angeles one in which she had spent so many moments. It was barren. There were no posters or pictures on the walls. The space was simply filled with a bed and two tables. She couldn't even spot one of those fancy three centimeter laptops. It wasn't the room of the Chuck she had known.

The spy's shock was interrupted by Ellie's voice. She was trying to calm Chuck, who was visibly distraught over the spilt medicine. Sarah had a feeling it had more to do with her reappearance, but she'd given herself enough of a mental beating for the day. Ellie gathered Chuck to his feet. The pair reluctantly faced Sarah.

"Let's go in the living room to talk," Ellie suggested.

Sarah nodded her affirmation, moving to the side so the siblings could lead the way. They each took seats in an armchair. Sarah was left with the leather sofa opposite of them. She got the distinct feeling she had just entered an interrogation room. Two sets of brown eyes stared at her intently. Chuck appeared to be drinking her in, while Ellie had regained most of her lost anger. The group continued to sit in heavy silence. Surprisingly, Chuck spoke first.

"What in the world is going on? Why was I committed? Where have you been and why are you here now," he blurted.

Sarah looked to Ellie, who indicated it was her duty to explain the predicament. She absently ran a hand through her hair, buying time to gather her thoughts. "The NSA and several other Intersect related agencies wanted you terminated. They thought the mere knowledge of the Intersect's existence was too much," she explained.

Chuck gave no reaction.

Sarah persevered, saying, "I needed a way to get them off the scent. The CIA has a program where we are able to get certain agents and assets back into the real world. That program encompasses just about everything you experienced in Gateways. Once we are assured that they think their time with us was imagined, they assimilate back into society."

"And the NSA just let you do this," Chuck asked, disbelievingly.

Sarah smiled slightly inside. She always found Chuck's ignorance to the way government worked endearing. For his part, Chuck was aghast. He had just been told that things generally considered inhumane and un-American were regularly performed on citizens.

"The CIA is still the top dog of world intelligence. I was able to sway Director Graham and he pulled the reins on General Beckman," Sarah answered.

"That still doesn't explain what you're doing here. You promised to never come back, that the CIA would never come back for him," Ellie interjected.

Chuck's head pivoted toward his sister, as if comprehending something for the first time. He was going to broach that something in the form of a question, but Sarah drew his attention away from the other Bartowski.

"I was assured that was the case, but something has gone seriously wrong. The computer that replaced Chuck has failed to assimilate a very important pack of information. Indicators from our other branches tell us that there is something big going on, but it's generally the Intersect's job to put everything together," she explained, hoping the direness of the situation was evident.

Chuck was still unsure. "So you want me back?"

Sarah leaned forward, placing her elbows on her thighs. "We need to get you to Washington. No one has ever tested higher than you at data conclusion or any field for that matter. We need to get the information inside your head so you can tell us what it means. Many lives could be at stake."

"Hasn't he suffered enough," Ellie asked.

Sarah sat upright once more. Ellie's opinion would be important, but the agent wasn't quite sure whether it would be a deal breaker. The sister could tell that Sarah was manipulating Chuck. Her brother always had a penchant for forgiveness and giving.

"Of course, but this isn't my idea. They would have just pulled him off the street, if I hadn't come. There is no one else who can do it, at least not that we know of," Sarah said.

"How long? Is this a one time thing or indefinite," Chuck wondered.

Sarah rose from the sofa. She took a few steps and held out her hand to Chuck. He questioned her with his eyes. Ellie huffed a loud sigh of discontent. "I honestly don't know Chuck. I think the better question is whether or not you're again willing to put yourself in my hands."


	5. When Conversations End Badly

**Bartowski Residence**

The air in the Bartowski living room was thick with tension. Ellie looked like she was about to have an aneurysm at Sarah's audacity. Chuck just looked stunned by the turn of events. He stared intently at Sarah's outstretched hand, studying it like an artifact. Closing his eyelids tightly, he rubbed his moist palms up and down the hard fabric of his jeans. He felt like he was in some twisted episode of the 'Twilight Zone'. There were so many nights where he dreamed of Sarah returning for him. Most of them, however, didn't include deception, pressure, and veiled threats.

Rising to his feet, Chuck opened his eyes. He was so close to Sarah that he could feel the heat radiating from her body. He felt that intense energy that was uniquely hers. They locked gazes, trying to read each others intentions. Coming to a decision, Chuck spoke, saying, "I can't deal with this right now."

He moved away from Sarah, slightly disturbed at how cold he felt doing so. Heading past his sister, he saw a small grin form on her lips. The dynamics of his situation would be laughable, if they weren't so dire. As Chuck closed the door to his bedroom, he heard the two women begin conversing in the living room.

Ellie was elated by her brother's decision. He had never had much of a backbone when it came to Sarah Walker. The woman was certainly good at her job, but Chuck didn't get into Stanford on an athletic scholarship. He had brains and it looked like he was finally putting them to good use.

For her part, Sarah was stunned. She continued to hold her hand toward the empty air, until it gradually gave way to the laws of gravity. No part of her mission had gone the way she had planned. She never expected to find Chuck so despondent or Ellie so hostile. The agent in her began to question whether Art Graham made the right decision, considering she hadn't been in the field for over a year.

"He's not going to be sucked back into your game," Ellie said flatly, startling Sarah from her ruminations.

Sarah reluctantly turned to face the protective mother bear. The look on her face was unreadable, but her eyes were exhausted. The previous twenty-hours had brought forth emotions that she had been fighting for three years. She didn't have the energy to smooth talk Chuck's sister. Instead, she laid out the harsh reality of their situation.

"He really doesn't have a choice. I'm just trying to make it easier," Sarah explained.

Ellie looked stricken by the words. She tried to form a response. Nothing coherent materialized. Sarah reached into her pocket and pulled out a plain, white business card. The only identifying characteristic was the neatly written ten digit number in the center. Sarah set it on the coffee table.

"If you need to contact me," she said, motioning to the card, "It's only good for the next few days, but I'll answer it."

Ellie remained immobile. In an strange turn of events, she had become the cold, unreadable woman in the room. Sarah fidgeted on her feet for a moment. There was so much to be said that she didn't even know how to start. In the end, she conceded to fight another day.

"I'll be by tomorrow," she called over her shoulder, exiting the oppressive home. Sarah fought to quell her racing heart and raging emotions. She swatted hard at her traitorous eyes. Stepping over the pile of ruined spaghetti, she repeatedly told herself that she was not going soft.

Just as she reached the door of her rental car, the right hand pocket of her pants began to vibrate, drawing her out of her depressing thoughts. She fished it from its fabric prison and flipped it open. Sighing at the familiar number, she accepted the call and gingerly sank into the car's confines.

"Walker secure," she barked. It was not a conversation she wanted to have at that particular moment.

"What's your status Walker," Art Graham asked, in a demanding voice.

Sarah rolled her eyes. She had sent him a copy of her mission plan before leaving D.C. He knew very well that she would have called him if anything drastic had occurred.

"I've made contact with the subject. He's been made aware of our offer, but has yet to decide. I'm leaving their residence now. I'll return tomorrow," she explained, working hard to keep the turmoil out of her voice and refrain from referring to Chuck as anything other than a mark.

Her superior paused. Sarah inwardly cringed. A government official delaying response was never a good thing. It usually meant the rug was about to be pulled out from under you or that something had seriously gone awry. With Sarah's luck, she was expecting both scenarios.

"Just be hasty Walker. We don't have time to waste. Things are changing here, even as we speak," he instructed, with a clear note of frustration in his voice.

Sarah knew better than to press him for specifics. "Will do sir," she said, closing the phone. She peeled out of her parking space and onto the thoroughfare.

--

**Chuck's Room**

"Knock, knock," Ellie said, tapping lightly on her brother's doorframe.

He didn't move from his outstretched position on the bed. His eyes did, however, make contact with hers before quickly returning to the ceiling fan. Ellie wasn't surprised or hurt by his reaction. He'd been very skittish since his time at Gateways. It was often hard to gauge his moods.

"How you holding up," she questioned softly, sitting on the edge of his bed. The mattress dipped slightly, but not enough for Chuck to have to compensate.

"Fine," he mumbled, continuing to watch the fan's blades circulate the air in the room.

"Sure you are," she replied, disbelievingly, "I know this is a lot to deal with, but I'm here if you need to talk."

Silence.

Ellie felt an overwhelming need to keep the conversation going, to forge a connection with her brother. "Don't listen to that woman's garbage. I know someone at the L.A. Times. We can take your story public, get you protection. The government can't just use people at their whim," she urged, hoping to hit common ground with their distaste for Sarah and the CIA.

Chuck just gave a snorting laugh. Ellie was about ready to give up and leave when he finally spoke.

"What was that," she asked, unable to discern his whispered words.

"You knew," he half yelled, with visible anger.

For the second time that day, Ellie's jaw dropped. She hadn't expected that kind of reaction from Chuck. She hadn't even expected him to have time to contemplate her role in Sarah's plan.

"I had no other choice," Ellie defended, disturbed by the fact that her statement was similar to the one used by the aforementioned maligned secret agent.

"There's always a choice," Chuck claimed, in that naïve way he had.

"She would have committed you anyway," Ellie assured, trying to turn his anger toward the person she believed rightly deserved it.

Chuck sat up in his bed, pushed his back against the wall, and folded his arms across his chest. His world had been turned upside down. The two most influential women in his life had been party to its destruction. He didn't know how to feel. His emotions were all over the spectrum. Betrayal flared through him at the thought of the years he had spent with a sister who knew the truth.

"You could have said something to me. I've been out for two years," he reasoned.

"And have you go off to find her, which I knew you'd do. You just would have gotten caught up in everything again. I couldn't let you take that risk," Ellie said, shaking her head.

"Why not give me the choice," Chuck wondered aloud, "Am I not capable of running my own life?"

Tears were threatening Ellie's eyes. She scooted forward on the bed, taking Chuck's hand in hers. He tried to pull away, but she held firm. "Of course you are. I was trying to protect you, to help you move on with your life."

"Well it didn't work," he said solemnly, finally succeeding in extracting his hand.

--

**Sarah's Hotel Room**

Startled, Sarah shot upright in her bed. She struggled to regain her bearings. The source of her disturbance was a small piece of plastic bouncing up and down on the night stand. Someone was calling her. Sarah sighed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

After her conversation with Director Graham, she drove around San Diego until she ran out of gas, which was around midnight. The trip helped her organize her thoughts, but she was still extremely conflicted about her mission. She returned to her sparse room at the Holiday Inn and listened to her surveillance recordings, before finally falling into a fitful sleep. Looking at the clock, she realized that she'd only been asleep for two hours. That fact did not help decrease her anger at the disturber of her slumber.

Yanking the noisy device from the table, she flipped it open. The number seemed familiar. It was like an itch she couldn't quite scratch, just sitting on the tip of her brain. It came to her in one fowl swoop, undoing the hours of self-talk she'd given to herself. She had memorized the number hours before on the flight from BWI. It was Chuck's number.

Clearing her throat, Sarah accepted the call. "Hello?"

"Sarah," the voice said, as if it were talking through Styrofoam, "Sarah, it's Ellie."

Despite the shaky connection, Sarah could hear the panic in the older woman's tone. Her spy senses were tingling. Fear for Chuck clawed at her heart. "I'm here Ellie, what's wrong?"

Ellie toned things down an octave, knowing that she had made contact with the agent. "It's Chuck. He's gone."

Sarah's stomach dropped. Trying to keep her voice level, she said, "Gone where?"

She could almost picture Ellie shaking her head, as if she were sitting right in front of her, instead of being miles away.

"I don't know. We had a fight. I just went in to check on him, but I can't find him anywhere," Ellie explained.

Sarah knew all about their argument. It was the first thing she heard upon returning from her car ride. Part of her felt bad for her role in causing a rift between the siblings. The vindictive side of her was glad that Ellie finally got a dose of her own medicine. None of that mattered just then, however. Chuck was AWOL and she needed to find him. Scrambling out from under the covers, Sarah grabbed her laptop and powered it on.

"It's going to be alright Ellie. I put a tracker on Chuck's car. Give me a second," Sarah explained, logging into her CIA services account. With a few strokes of the keyboard, she was staring at a glowing map of the San Diego area. Running her eyes horizontally across the screen, Sarah managed to locate the blinking dot that represented Chuck Bartowski.

"I've got his location," Sarah informed, transferring the data and software to her cell phone so that she could track him on the move.

"Tell me where he is," Ellie ordered.

Sarah grit her teeth. Going to Chuck's aid would be much more beneficial to her mission than letting his sister find him. There was also the possibility that he didn't leave under his own power. The agent in her made a tactical decision to take the Bartowski sister out of the loop.

"I'll go get him Ellie. You just wait there in case he decides to come home on his own," Sarah said, trying to keep her tone gentle.

Ellie paused, clicking her tongue against her teeth. "I don't think that's such a good idea. You don't know what kind of state he's in."

Ellie's assessment was dead on, but Sarah needed to make personal, emotional contact with Chuck and soon. "That's how it's going to have to be," she replied.

"Fine," Ellie said angrily, ending the phone call.

The second the connection was severed, Sarah set about getting dressed. According to the CIA software, Chuck wasn't too far from her location, but it always paid to be swift. She was dressed and on the road in five minutes.

--

_AN: We get some serious Chuck/Sarah angst next chapter and then get into the action._


	6. When Timetables Get Termites

**Sunset Cliffs**

**San Diego, California**

The Taurus' tires kicked up dirt and gravel, as Sarah slowly pulled the vehicle alongside Chuck's Herder. It was comforting to see a familiar sight at such a grave time. A small flare of hope surged in her heart. Suddenly, there was the possibility that the Chuck she remembered wasn't completely lost to the world, that the disastrous aftermath of her brilliant plan could be reversed. At that point in time, however, he was nowhere to be found. With urgency, Sarah climbed into the pleasant early morning atmosphere. She could smell the saltwater in the air. It reminded her of childhood vacations to the ocean.

Sarah's calves protested at the steep climb to the top of the hill. Lulls in her workout regimen were one of the many downsides of being a Washington desk jockey. Her lungs were still in excellent shape, however, barely straining as she garnered her first glimpse of Chuck's tall frame. His unbuttoned shirt and unruly locks blew synchronously in the breeze. The tense set of his shoulders betrayed the serenity that a casual observer of the scene would interpret. Moonlight cast intriguing shadows over Chuck and the surrounding ground, but the sky held a lightness that foretold the Sun's intense fight to illuminate the West Coast.

Chuck didn't sense or hear her approach. He was too preoccupied with the waves crashing against the stone cliff he stood atop. Sarah argued with herself over the best way to confront him. Physical contact was what she yearned for, even if it was just a hand on his shoulder. Shaking her head, she dismissed the thought. Instead, she decided to go with the tried and true method of verbal communication. Even is she scared him off, there really wasn't anywhere he could run that she couldn't follow.

"Chuck," she yelled, striving to be heard over the wind and water.

He shot around like a bullet, startled by the interruption. A strange series of emotions flowed through the musculature of his face. Sarah couldn't quite discern them all, which provided her with an unfamiliar feeling of unease.

"What are you doing here," he asked, regaining his composure.

Sarah moved closer to him, in hopes that conversation would be easier. Chuck looked like he was ready to step back onto the unsporting air, at her movement. She held up her hands. He relaxed slightly.

"Ellie called me. You scared her with your disappearing act. Kind of scared me too," she admitted. It was the right thing to say for manipulation purposes, but her eyes conveyed the truth in her words.

Chuck ignored her emotional appeal, turning back toward the expanse of water. Sarah once again moved to stand near him. She stopped a few feet to his left. His breathing changed, but he was otherwise unaffected by her presence.

Sensing that he wasn't going to explain, Sarah offered him her own interpretation. "Did you come out here to think," she asked, remembering the numerous times he had found solace on Los Angeles beaches.

"No," he said, pausing for dramatic effect, " I came out here to kill myself."

Sarah grabbed Chuck's arm, spinning him toward her. Shock oozed out of her pores. Chuck's face was impassive, as if he had just announced what he was having for lunch.

"What the hell are you talking about? Why would you even consider such a thing," Sarah yelled, her heart falling at the thought of his death.

Chuck gingerly pulled himself from her grasp. "I'm thinking that I want to wake up from this dream. Pinching myself isn't working," he morbidly joked.

Sarah struggled to understand his frame of mind. "You're not dreaming Chuck. Jumping off this cliff will serve no purpose other than landing you in the hospital," she assured.

Chuck looked to the sky and back down. "Well, if this isn't a dream, than you're real and my sister lied to me for three years. It would mean that she wasn't the person I thought she was. This being a dream is much more appealing," he argued.

Chuck's tone was sarcastic, but Sarah could sense the raw hurt behind his words. She found herself in the awkward position of having to defend the elder Bartowski, in an effort to quell Chuck's suicidal urges.

"She did what she thought was best Chuck, just like I did. I don't think either of us foresaw these kind of consequences," she said, searching for the right phrases.

"What about what I thought," Chuck accused, his eyes tearing into Sarah, "She had countless opportunities to take me aside and explain why I was really committed. I didn't have to go through the pain of being society's scourge."

"You wouldn't have let things stand. Somehow you would have found yourself back on the NSA's radar, back in danger," Sarah reasoned, unaware of how close her words came to déjà vu for Chuck.

"I think I might have gotten your message. I'm not totally clueless," he said angrily.

"Chuck-," Sarah started, trying to calm his angst.

Chuck didn't hear her. His mind had wandered off into a place Sarah couldn't venture. He spoke without realizing it, saying softly, "I waited for you."

"What," she asked, puzzled by his changing temperaments.

He looked at her, his eyes full of torment and regret. "Every night I stayed awake so I would be ready for the rescue attempt."

Sarah's eyes filled with some of the same emotion she had seen in Chuck's. She had no words. They weren't needed, however. Chuck had plenty to confess.

"You came to me a few times, apologized for taking so long, and whisked me away. Casey was always waiting in the getaway car with some smart comment on the tip of his tongue. It was always the perfect day, until I woke up the next morning strapped to my bed," he explained, struggling to force coherent sentences from his addled mind.

"Chuck, I-," Sarah started, unsure how to respond.

His face tilted ever so closer to hers, intense eyes never breaking their gaze. "Do you know what that was like, to wake up in that prison after thinking I was free, to question my sanity?"

Sarah shook her head fiercely. She didn't understand; she couldn't understand. The waves of energy coming from Chuck's body were suffocating in their intensity. Agent Sarah Walker wanted to run away from such a personal confrontation, but the woman that Chuck had uncovered years ago wouldn't let her flee.

"It's just about the worst feeling in the world. Your stomach drops, your heart beats a little bit faster, and you just want to die. It's kind of how I'm feeling right now. Tomorrow, I'm going to wake up in that bed again and I would rather not exist at all," he said, his voice cracking throughout the explanation. He could barely hold back the torrents. The dam overflowed.

Still not knowing what to say, Sarah grabbed Chuck's arm. She squeezed it lightly, in an attempt at comfort. That was all it took for his walls to crack. He crumpled to the dirt covered ground. Sarah followed him down, her legs tucking under themselves. His shoulders shook, in an effort to release everything their owner had withheld. Chuck could no longer look Sarah in the eye.

"You didn't come. I waited for you, but you never showed. Why wouldn't you save me Sarah," Chuck pled, tears leaking from his eyes. His voice came out in spurts, the words catching in his throat.

Sarah was appalled to realize that her actions had led to that moment in Chuck's life, to his emotional breakdown. She had never imagined that her plan would turn out to be such a monumental miscalculation. All she could do was wrap her arms around Chuck's body. He tensed at first, but quickly collapsed into her hold, their bodies finding compatible rhythm. They each pushed their heads into the crook of the others neck, seeking solace.

Sarah forced herself to break the silence.

"I'm so sorry Chuck. Not a day went by when I didn't think about coming back for you. My training told me that I had done the right thing. I thought you'd be safe."

Chuck pulled his head back, searching Sarah's eyes for some sort of answer. The agent stifled her instinctual protest. Instead, she tried to put forth her every thought and emotion, baring all for him to see. She prevented nothing from escaping her blue orbs. A change in his gaze told her that he found the thing for which he was probing. The barest hint of a smile tugged at her lips. She sensed his defenses crumbling. Resting her forehead against his, she held him just a little bit tighter.

"I could never apologize enough for the decisions I made, but I'm going to try my hardest to make things right, whatever it takes," she said, embarrassed by her cracking voice.

Chuck nodded his forehead against hers. Sarah closed her eyes, taking in the feel of him. Their bodies fit well together. It was what she had dreamed about ever night before and after her nightmares. They sat there for what felt like hours, before Sarah decided it was time to move.

"Do you want me to leave so you can jump into the frigid water," she asked jokingly, trying to ease some of the lingering tension.

Chuck gave a halfhearted laugh, saying, "No."

"Then let's get you home. It's too chilly to sit here much longer," she replied, reluctantly extricating herself from their embrace and hopping to her feet. She offered him her hand. Chuck gave her a very poignant look, reminding her that she had made the same offering hours prior. This time, however, Chuck firmly took hold of her extremity, lifting himself into a standing position.

Sarah turned to head for the cars, but Chuck's continued grip on her hand stopped her progress. She twisted back to face him, giving a coy smile. He returned it briefly, before becoming serious. There had definitely been shift in their relationship. The agent just wasn't exactly sure what territory they were entering.

"Sarah," Chuck started, interrupting her ruminations, "I just wanted to say tha-."

Sarah had been observing their joined hands, but Chuck's sudden cutoff gave her a bad feeling. Reluctantly, she turned her gaze to his shocked face. His mouth was opening and closing like a fish struggling to breathe. His free hand pawed at the side of his neck, until he had pulled free the offending object.

"What-," he attempted, holding the dart in front of his face. His boggled mind struggled to comprehend what had happened, but Sarah knew exactly what was going on. She gave Chuck an apologetic look, as she eased his limp form to the ground. Thoughts of betrayal coursed through Chuck's fuzzy mind.

"I'm sorry Chuck. I didn't want it to happen like this," she said, giving him a brief kiss on the head. She wasn't sure if he was still conscious enough to feel it, but it was the least of her concerns. Pulling a gun from her waistband, Sarah protectively circled Chuck's prone form in search of threats.

Two men in black scampered out of the foliage. Their guns were drawn, causing Sarah to go on full alert. A black catering truck careened up the hill, swerving to a stop ten feet from Chuck and Sarah. Two more armed men jumped from the vehicle. Sarah was seriously outnumbered. A standoff of pointed guns and bloated egos ensued, until one of the men from the van spoke.

"Agent Walker," he said, "we are here on a sanctioned mission under authorization code Bravo seven. Please stand down."

Sarah continued to have a fierce grip on her weapon, even though she knew the battle was lost. Bravo seven was Director Graham's mission code. He had ordered Chuck's requisition.

The agents were not a patient bunch. "We have been ordered to secure the subject and bring him to Washington. You can either come with us or make things hard on yourself and resist. Our unit has be instructed to use whatever means necessary to acquire the asset," their leader explained.

Sarah tightened the muscles in her hand one last time, before lowering her weapon in acquiescence. She could not help Chuck if got herself killed. The minute her gun was safely secured, agents swarmed to Chuck.

"Be careful with him," Sarah warned, stepping back from the scene.

The unit wasted no time getting Chuck into the retrofitted vehicle. Entering its confines, Sarah got the distinct feeling that she had used it before, perhaps even on a mission with Team Chuck. She was about to oversee the seating arrangements when her phone rang. Checking the Caller ID, she realized it was the only person she wanted to speak with at that particular moment.

"Director Graham, how nice of you to contact me," she said sarcastically, bordering on insubordination.

"I'm sorry Walker, but there wasn't time to bring you into the loop. Things changed quickly. We don't have time to baby Bartowski," her superior explained.

Sarah was angered by his attitude toward Chuck, but she had a begrudging understanding of why the CIA had to operate the way it did. "What sort of development would warrant such a drastic mission diversion," Sarah wondered, fearing for her organization and her country.

Graham sighed into the phone's transceiver, saying, "It may not be a threat of the nature we initially suspected. I can't risk saying much more over the airways, but we need Bartowski's mind ASAP."

"Will do, sir," Sarah said, knowing it was best to play ball.

She closed the cell phone, turning her attention to Chuck and the agents surrounding him. One held a needle in his hand, while the other attempted to restrain Chuck's flailing arms. The darts that the CIA agents used were specifically designed for missions involving 'friendly' adversaries. They held small amounts of several powerful sedatives. When shot directly into the artery, however, they could instantly knock out a two hundred pound man.

Sarah smiled slightly at the fact that Chuck had remained conscious for so long because the agent's aim had not been true. Her joy quickly faded, however, at the sounds of distress emanating from Chuck's mouth. Grabbing her trusty handgun, she strode toward the man holding the syringe. Pressing the barrel of the gun to his head, she maneuvered her mouth next to his ear.

"Stick that contraption in his arm and I will shoot every last one of you. I don't care what kind of authorization you have," she growled, overcome with the need to protect Chuck from all harm.

The man scowled at her, but handed over the medical device. At his nod, the other men withdrew from Chuck's location. Satisfied that they weren't going to try anything further, Sarah moved to Chuck's side, balancing her gun on her thigh. She grabbed his hand, squeezing it in a reassuring manner.

"Chuck," she whispered, "it's Sarah. You need to calm down."

Chuck continued to thrash in his seat, caught up in some sort of illusion. "They're not real. I know their not real. I won't talk about it anymore. Please don't make me take any more pills," he cried.

Blood drained from Sarah's face, as she realized what was happening. The sedatives in the dart had similar after effects to the medicine Chuck had been forced to take at Gateways. He thought he was back inside the institution. Realizing that Chuck was not going to calm, Sarah was forced to use the needle she had confiscated. She pushed the point through Chuck's skin, depressing the plunger. The substance worked quickly, quieting Chuck in seconds. Discarding the syringe, Sarah dared the agents with her eyes to contradict her actions. They simply stared at her or a moment before gong about their procedures.

One hour later, the temporary team was on a private jet headed for Dulles International Airport. Sarah and Chuck were going back to where their journey originated, unaware of the dangerous and deceptive skies ahead.

_AN: We finally start to get into the mystery, in the next few chapters. I've got a nasty cold, so I'm sure there are mistakes in this chapter. Please feel free to let me know._


	7. When Deja Vu Is True True True

_AN: I only proofed it once because I don't feel well, so let me know if there are any glaring errors that impede reading. Sorry for the long delay between updates. I'll try and get the next chapter done soon._

* * *

**CIA Facility**

**Somewhere in Maryland**

The sound of silence roused Chuck from his drug induced slumber. He wasn't used to such a quiet atmosphere, even during the dead of night in his sister's wholesome neighborhood. The hush was filled with tension. Chuck didn't feel safe. He let light filter through his eyelids, enabling his pupils to adjust more gradually. Upon opening his eyes fully, Chuck was greeted with nothing but white. He attempted to survey the rest of the room, but his head would not respond.

Jerking his cranium a few more times, Chuck surmised that it was being held down by a slick material. Further attempts at movement confirmed his worst fears. All of his extremities were confined to the contraption on which he rested. It had all been an illusion. He was still being held prisoner in Gateways Hospital. Panic overtook his body, causing him to jerk violently against his restraints. He was determined to break himself free, whatever the cost.

So caught up in his dilemma, Chuck barely heard the door to his room fly open. Heavy footfalls echoed off the walls. Voices danced into his eardrums.

"I told you this was a bad idea," said one voice. The fact that it was a distantly familiar tone did not register to Chuck.

"We were just following procedure," justified another foreign being.

One of the figures approached Chuck's thrashing form, casting a shadow over his face. They placed a hand on his forearm and Chuck readied himself for the inevitable injection. Instead of sedating him, the figure squeezed his arm, leaning closer.

"Chuck," the person said in a soothing voice, "you're not in the mental institution. You're safe."

Refusing to believe the words, Chuck moaned, "No."

Moving even closer, the figure entered Chuck's line of sight. Chuck refused to look at them, darting his eyes anywhere they would go.

"Chuck, it's Sarah. Please look at me. You're safe. It wasn't a dream," she said, remembering his emotional confession on the cliff.

Chuck was ready to continue his stubborn avoidance, until Sarah placed her palm on his cheek. The heat from her touch was breathtaking. His senses were so engaged that he could feel the curvature of her fingerprint. Acquiescing to the hold that she had over him, Chuck slowed his eyes, bringing Sarah into focus. She gave him a weary grin, trying to be reassuring.

Using her free hand, Sarah undid the strap around his forehead. Chuck used his newfound mobility to observe the rest of the room. It too was stark white. There were several other people spaced throughout. Some were clearly medical personnel, while the others wore civilian clothing. One man looked particularly menacing. He stood in the doorway, with his hand on his gun holster. The image reminded him of the infamously gruff John Casey.

"Chuck, are you all right," Sarah questioned, breaking him from his memories.

For the first time, Chuck realized that he was breathing heavily. Sweat had broken out across his exposed skin. As the adrenaline in his body dissipated, he felt heavy and lethargic. Sarah's question was so loaded that it almost made him laugh. He decided to ignore it altogether.

"Where are we," he questioned, placing his head back onto the chair's headrest.

Sarah gave him a pointed look, but let the diversion in topics slide. Removing her hand from his cheek, Sarah sat up a little straighter, pushing her professionalism towards the surface. "We're in a secure CIA facility," she explained.

Suddenly, Chuck was inundated with memories of the pervious two days. He remembered Sarah's arrival, the fight with his sister, the confessions on the beach, and, most importantly, his subsequent sedation via dart.

"You lied to me," he blurted out, unconsciously attempting to skirt away from Sarah.

Sarah, who had been slightly distracted by her observation of their surroundings, was jolted by his words. She thought they had put most of their issues to rest, or at least on the backburner, during their time on the cliff. It didn't even occur to her that Chuck would see his abduction as another lie in her web.

Shaking her head furiously, Sarah tried to regain their balance, saying, "No! I had no idea they were going to do that. I couldn't take them on by myself. I had to go with them or risk not being able to protect you."

Once again, Chuck searched Sarah's eyes for the truth. "You had no idea I was going to be carted off?"

"Of course not. I was there to convince you to help willingly. The operation that took you was in no way part of my mission plan," Sarah assured.

"And what were you going to do if I refused to help," Chuck wondered aloud.

Sarah tripped over her answer. The old Chuck would have let her evasion slide. Apparently, the new one wasn't nearly as trusting or forgiving. She really couldn't blame him. It took all of her willpower to remain calm in the face of such a distressing situation. The minute Chuck woke, Sarah realized first hand what he had gone through on a daily basis. He was strapped down, manhandled, and sedated into submission. What impacted her most gravely was the sudden understanding that he had no one he could trust.

She had demanded that he trust her during their rocky working relationship. It was paramount to his survival. While she was just recently coming to the conclusion that her actions were seriously misguided, she always knew that she had lost his trust by forging his medical records and sentencing him to hell on Earth. The only people he had left to put his faith in were Ellie and Devin, but they too had lost ground thanks to their mostly unwilling participation in Chuck's captivity.

"That's what I thought," Chuck said, breaking eye contact.

He had no one left. Chuck was back in the CIA's world with no life preserver, at least that was his perceived reality. It was one thing for a spy to shed all relationships, but Chuck was never meant to be a spy.

Chuck had her, even if he refused to accept it. There was no denying that Sarah had completely failed at keeping her emotions out of Chuck's reactivation mission. She felt as attached to him that day as she had three years prior. He would come out of their predicament alive. Sarah would make sure of that. The hard part was convincing Chuck that she was still on his side.

Sarah leaned forward, grasping at the fleeting string of trust. "I hadn't decided. I knew that what they did was standard operating procedure, but I couldn't bring myself to plan it. I honestly don't know what I would have done."

Chuck sensed the undercurrent of anguish in Sarah's voice. He wasn't the only one facing swirling emotions. The situation was unwanted for the both of them. Chuck knew Sarah would have rather not been given the assignment to confront him.

Even though he didn't trust her, Sarah was the closest thing Chuck had to an ally. He would have to play the game her way, believing that she would at least keep him safe long enough for him to decode the mystery Intersect information. One thing he wouldn't do was play the fool. He would be looking out for his best interests, no matter what happened. Feeling empowered by his rationalizations, Chuck decided to let Sarah off the hook.

Connecting their eyes once more, Chuck softened his face, saying, "Ok, I believe you."

Sarah's eyebrows arched up in puzzlement and shock. "You do," she asked.

Chuck gave his answer with a slight upturn of his lips and a nod of his head. "I do. What you said is congruent with your actions and I think the exchange we had on the beach was real, no matter what Dr. Stewart might say."

"Thank you, Chuck," she murmured, with more emotion than she would have preferred. She couldn't help it, however. Chuck's reaction amazed her. He truly was a special person. To be in such a predicament and willingly put his life in her hands was unfathomable. For a fleeting moment, Sarah felt like a giggling school girl, a very dangerous school girl. It only served to intensify her desire to protect Chuck and maybe acquire something more.

Feeling uncomfortable by the intensity of Sarah's reaction, Chuck steered their conversation to more pressing matters. He could not get caught up in her again.

"So why am I being held prisoner," he said, testing his restraints to demonstrate his point.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "You're not being held prisoner," she assured, "not really." Gesturing to the white walled room surrounding them, Sarah continued, "This is the upload room where subjects receive Intersect data."

"I kinda figured that," he said, interrupting her explanation, "a lack of sensory interruption would make the data easier to absorb."

"Yes, well the folks here at the Intersect Institute feared a loss of time if they left you unbound and were forced to sedate you when you most assuredly refused to cooperate," Sarah mocked, looking over her shoulder at the menacing man by the door.

"The government is always so efficient," Chuck joked, following Sarah's lead.

She gave him a small grin, before turning to the serious side of things. "We _are _in a time crunch Chuck. There's no telling what's about to go down. Are you ready to become Mr. Intersect again?"

Chuck rolled his eyes at her dramatics. "Do I really have a choice," he accused.

"I may have been the CIA's top spy, but I doubt I can take on everyone in this building, so no," Sarah said.

"Then beam me up Scottie," Chuck quipped.

Having what amounted to an agreement, Sarah turned to the personnel surrounding them and tilted her head. The room came alive. Civilians made a hasty exit, while the medical staff double checked the sensors attached to Chuck's body. Sarah gracefully replaced Chuck's head strap, checking to make sure that it was comfortable.

"The process has been quickened over the years. It shouldn't take more than an hour. We'll show you the trigger images afterward. I'll be right outside, if you need me," she said quickly, feeling nervous. There was no turning back once Chuck was reloaded.

Chuck gave her a reassuring look. "Go ahead. I'll be fine. The sooner this is over with, the better."

Sarah followed the medical staff out of the room, throwing one more concerned look over her shoulder. The door closed and the light was dimmed to a near pitch black level. Chuck swallowed heavily. Despite the brave front he put up for Sarah, he was pretty darn anxious about putting the government's greatest secrets back into his noggin.

A loud hum distracted him from his anxiety ridden path. The room began to brighten, as the first encoded image appeared on the ceiling and walls. Chuck eyes watered from the injection of light, but he could not close them. Time stood still for him, as the pictures shuffled across the room's surfaces. Some stayed up longer than others, but Chuck quickly lost the will to have conscious thought. He knew that his body was there, but it felt like he consisted of nothing more than eyes and a brain.

After what seemed like seconds, the parade of images slowed to several colored figures. Realizing that these were inserted to stop his brain's absorption process, Chuck sighed in relief. Sweat once again covered his body. Outside of heavy breathing and a fast beating heart, he was fine.

A sound from the heavens startled him.

"Are you ok Mr. Bartowski," it asked.

After a few attempts, Chuck managed to croak out an indication of his well being.

"Good. We're going to give you a few test images to make sure that everything loaded properly," explained the far away voice.

Chuck braced himself for the old, but familiar feeling of a flash. Despite the hardships that it brought him, he always felt a sense of purpose when his flashes thwarted the bad guys. Before and after his time as the Intersect, Chuck had no direction. He floundered through life. He was still insanely angry at the government, but he vowed to do his best to get the answers they wanted so he could rebuild his life.

There were five test images, two of which contained no encoding. Chuck must have interpreted them all correctly because he was quickly informed that the actual trigger data was about to be displayed.

An image of a soccer ball appeared on the walls. Chuck's eyes violently rolled back into his head. The intensity of the flash was staggering. He had never before been affected so strongly. He couldn't tell for sure, but he thought he felt his body arching into the air.

The picture was triggering data retrieval, but none of it made sense. He was only getting the images themselves. He couldn't understand their hidden information. Sensing that all was not well, Chuck willed him brain to exit the data and stop his flash. After several attempts, he succeeded, reentering reality.

There were people huddled all around him. Sarah was the closest. Her face was full of concern. She appeared to be calling his name, but he couldn't hear anything. His body ached. Something itched inside of his head. After a loud whistling, his hearing faded back into existence.

"Chuck, Chuck, can you hear me," Sarah said. Her voice sounded like an angel or so Chuck's confused mind thought.

All of his restraints were removed, as Sarah moved him into a sitting position. A glass of water materialized in her hand. He accepted it greedily.

"Are you ok," Sarah asked.

Chuck had to think about it for a moment. He felt exhausted. There were moments of pain and headache, but her reckoned that he was fine. He informed Sarah of his conclusions. There was obvious relief shining across her face. He must have been some sight.

"What did you see Chuck? What's going to happen," Sarah said, conceding to the pressure from the Intersect team to crack the code.

Chuck shook his head, taking one last swig of water. "I don't know," he said.

The faces of everyone in the room fell. Chuck felt like a failure, which compelled him to explain his experience.

"It's like something was blocking me. I feel like the answer is on the tip of my consciousness. I saw the necessary images, but I couldn't understand them," Chuck explicated.

Several of the doctors exchanged knowing glances. A rather young looking fellow in plain clothes stepped towards Chuck's resting place. Making eye contact with the nurse examining Chuck, he asked, "How are his vitals."

After double-checking her readings, the woman said, "Everything looks normal. No heat elevation."

The young man looked relieved. Chuck was thoroughly confused. He was about to turn to Sarah for an explanation when the man offhandedly dropped a bombshell.

"Maybe he won't end up like the others," he sighed.

Chuck felt Sarah tense beside him. He wanted to reach out and calm her, but she had already hopped to her feet to face the loose lipped man.

"What others," Sarah asked in a demanding tone.

The younger fellow looked to the other people in the room for help. He found none. Mustering up a shred of courage, he replied.

"The other Intersects," he said.

"What happened to them," Sarah questioned, moving closer to the man. Distantly she heard Chuck call her name in warning. None of it mattered, however. She had found an outlet for her frustration and she was going to get answers.

The man opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to decide something. "I'm not supposed to say," he nervously explained.

Sarah saw red. She had just spent an hour and a half on edge from her concern for Chuck. Every time he flinched, she resisted the urge to run into the room and tear off his straps. Finding out that he too could not assimilate the data was the last straw. The man in front of her knew something important and he was going to tell her.

Turing to instinct, Sarah strode toward the man. He backpedaled away from her until he ran into the wall. Sarah put her arm to the mans throat, lifting him off of the ground. Any sense of decorum she possessed yielded to the fury inside of her.

"I am the Deputy Director of North American Operations and you are damn well going to tell me what happened to the other assets," Sarah yelled.

The man gathered his breath before giving Sarah the answer she desired.

"They died."


	8. When Confessions Close The Gap

_This is definately not where I expected this chapter to go, but it's what came out when I sat down to write. I don't have any word processing software at the moment, so I apologize for any ugly errors._

* * *

**Sarah Walker's Home**

**Maryland's Eastern Shore**

Chuck anxiously shuffled into the foyer, followed closely by the tense figure of Sarah Walker. Shutting the door quickly, Sarah gave one last assessing perusal of her waterfront home's surroundings. While Sarah studied the perimeter, Chuck took a gander at the house's interior. Well, half of his brain took stock of the layout. The rest of his body, however, was busy replaying the last two hours of his life.

Upon hearing the CIA agent's morbid declaration, Sarah had unceremoniously dropped him to the floor. In trance-like fashion, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and had a very heated argument with someone Chuck assumed was Director Graham. When that was finished, she retrieved Chuck from his oh so comfortable upload chair and ushered him out of the room. Personnel in the room made an attempt to impede their progress, but Sarah gave them a look of death and referred their complaints to the Director.

Through it all, Chuck was too shocked to voice any sort of complaint. But once they were safely ensconced in Sarah's car, the babbling began. He demanded to know what was going on with the other Intersects and why they had left the security of the facility. Sarah met each of his questions with silence, choosing, instead, to unnecessarily shift the car's gears. In his usual manner, Chuck couldn't help himself from questioning her one last time as they approached a sizable waterfront home. She had looked at him in a moment of rare honesty and stated that if he was going to die, it shouldn't be in some white walled CIA prison. Her statement quieted Chuck on the endless walk up the driveway.

He couldn't stay silent long, however. Talking always made him feel safe.

"This is your house," he asked, hoping to ease into more civil circumstances.

"Yes," Sarah replied, her eyes continuing to roam over the outside landscape.

"So what made you want to live on the Bay?"

"This is where I grew up," Sarah replied, waving her hands slowly in all directions. She finally found what she was looking for and turned to face Chuck. Chuck's shock was evident by the slight parting of his lips. Sarah chose to ignore it. Her living arrangements were the least frightening thing that he could have chosen to discuss.

"My parents wanted to move closer to the city, but I loved this place too much to leave. They have their condo in the Harbor and I have this," Sarah continued.

"You grew up here," Chuck stuttered, clearly shocked by something.

Sarah put a hand on her hip, no longer finding Chuck's reaction endearing. "Yes! Is there a problem with that," she answered defensively, having dealt for years with the stereotypes surrounding small town, rural life.

Chuck, seeing his obvious misstep, backpedalled quickly. He frantically shook his head. "No, of course not. It's just that this is so...so normal," he said, struggling to articulate himself properly.

Sarah quirked an eyebrow in his direction, clearly not catching his drift. Taking a deep breath, Chuck dove head first. "It just makes me wonder how you became a spy," he said, finally revealing the elephant in the room.

As realization dawned, Sarah's hostile body language melted away. She gave a small chuckle, heading toward the back of the house. Chuck hurried to follow her, not wanting to get lost.

"I don't know what you've seen in the movies, but not every federal agent had a horrible childhood or did time in the pen," Sarah said over her shoulder.

"I don't think anyone really calls it the pen," Chuck added from behind.

Entering a rather spacious kitchen, Sarah grabbed a glass from one of the cabinets and filled it with water. She handed it to Chuck, filled one for herself, and leaned back against the marble counter top. Chuck took a reluctant sip of water. Holding the glass awkwardly in his hands, he shuffled from foot to foot. He wasn't sure whether to make himself at home or remain standing. Choosing the latter, he looked expectantly at Sarah. She looked right back at him, not giving an inch.

"So how did you end up in the spy game," Chuck mumbled into his glass, as he took another gulp. For tap water, it was pretty tasty.

"You can't spit in Maryland without hitting a government employee, as my father used to say. It was almost inevitable. My family wanted me to stay in the area, so I attended Georgetown as linguistics major. A friend of the family suggested I get a job with the CIA. Before I knew it, they tapped me for their super secret agent club. The rest is history," Sarah recounted, taking pity on Chuck inexhaustible curiosity.

"Hmm..I never..thought...about it that way," Chuck said between yawns.

Eyeing him thoughtfully, Sarah pushed off the counter-top. She grabbed the glass from his hand, set it down, and tugged him toward the stairs. "Come on Mr. Inquisitor. I think that noggin of your needs a rest. Gotta give the Intersect data time to stew."

Chuck nodded his head in agreement, fumbling up the stairs behind her, trying earnestly not to stare at what her pants so graciously showcased. Pushing his hormones to the wayside, Chuck realized just how drained he was. Assimilating government secrets required a lot of brain power, not to mention the stressful events before and after.

Reaching the landing, Sarah came to an abrupt stop. Chuck was surprised to sense nervousness in her demeanor. It's quite unnerving to have your protector anything other than self-assured, he realized.

"You can sleep in this room," she said, gesturing to the closest doorway,"there are clothes in the dresser, if you wanted to change into something more comfortable."

Unconsciously, Chuck shuddered. The thought of another man in Sarah's house, possibly even Bryce, leaving clothes in her drawers, angered him. He still had an irrational sense of possession that arose from years of unrequited attachment. It almost made him want to sleep on the sofa, with his shoes on.

"They're my brother's," Sarah blurted out, as Chuck started towards the darkened opening. Somehow, she knew her previous words had an undesired effect. The revelation that he could perish at any moment from some mysterious cause left her wanting to ease all of his pain. "He leaves them here for when the family gets together. They should be about your size."

Immensely relieved at his good fortune, Chuck flashed Sarah a genuine over the shoulder grin before proceeding into the bedroom. Sarah gave a chuckle that almost turned into a sob. Her emotions were swirling and it was a fight against gravity to get on top of them. Once Chuck's form completely disappeared from view, she ran a weary hand through her golden strands, trudging down the hallway to the master suite.

Shrugging her shoes off at the door, Sarah gave the area a quick once over. Since her promotion, she spent most of the year commuting between her Maryland home and CIA Headquarters. Despite an increased presence in the space, her room was as barren as it had been when she was a globe trotting super-spy. The walls were an uninteresting beige color. A painting of sail boat surrounded by water hung on the wall, like it would in any home within five miles of water. Her mattress simply rested on the box spring, absent of any decorative structure. The decor spoke of a person rushed through life without a beacon calling her home and that's exactly how Sarah Walker felt since she joined the CIA

There was, however, one thing in the room for which she cared. An antique looking dresser unit stood on the far wall, near the entrance to the master bath. Sarah had been strolling through Ellicott City on a marvelous Fall day when the piece beckoned to her from a glass store-front window. Standing on the sidewalk, she had a vision of watching her husband fasten her necklace in the unit's large mirror. An unusual moment of impulse led to the hefty 900 purchase, but Sarah never regretted it.

Pulling herself from the memory, she walked over to the mirror and stared at the image reflected. Her eyes looked drained. She could see her soul through them and it was like a candle flame flickering in the wind, trying valiantly to stay alive despite all odds. Her thirty year old body felt like it wasn't a year under seventy.

Performing what had become a nightly ritual, Sarah pulled her shirt up to her chest, fingering a fierce scar on her abdomen. The pink puffiness that accompanies new wounds had long been replaced by a slightly raised line of dull, reddish brown skin. It would never go away, but months of ointment application could minimize the contrast, if she chose to use medicine. She had picked up a few bottles, but not an ounce had ever touched her body. It was something she needed, a reminder. She closed her eyes at the memories.

"What happened," asked a tentative voice from behind.

Sarah's eyes snapped open in surprise, as she spun on her heel, dropping the raised fabric. She put a hand to her heart, letting Chuck know he had scared the begeezzers out of her. He gave an admonished upturn of his lips.

"Sorry, I was looking for the bathroom," he explained.

Sarah moved away from the dresser, taking a few steps toward Chuck. "It's the third door down the hall to your right," she instructed.

Chuck didn't move from the room.

Instead, he took several step toward Sarah's floundering form. Raising his hand, he gestured toward her torso, saying, "What happened?"

"Chuck," Sarah sighed, warning him that it was a topic she'd rather not broach.

For a moment, Chuck fought an internal battle against instinct, desire, and propriety. Considering his decision in the Intersect upload room, he should stay far away from any emotionally laden conversation. The core of his person, however, couldn't turn away from a someone so obviously stricken.

"What happened," Chuck questioned more forcefully, closing half the distance between he and Sarah.

Sarah's head dropped in defeat. She didn't have the energy to fight Chuck for long. "What does it even matter? It's not relevant to our current mission," she argued, putting up what defenses she could muster.

Sensing a way in, but still unsure of his footing, Chuck didn't move. "It obviously bothers you, so it bothers me by extension," he said.

Hair fell into Sarah's eyes as she assessed Chuck's intentions, making her more of an enigma than usual. "Why," she wondered.

"It just does ok," Chuck ground out, feeling more out of place as the conversation progressed.

Gaining ground, Sarah continued her delaying tactics. "Well I don't see why, considering the last few years," Sarah stalled.

Knowing that their conversation was about more than just getting her to tell him the truth, Chuck filled with anger. "Would you just tell me what the hell happened," he exploded.

"I was captured trying to save you," Sarah yelled back, with equal ferocity.

"What," Chuck said, deflating from the confusing confession.

Losing any and all energy, Sarah moved to the foot of her bed. She attempted to sit on its edge, but ended up sliding to the floor. Bringing her knees to her chest, she cradled her head in her hands. Chuck quickly knelt beside her, fighting the urge to envelope her in a fierce hug.

"I don't understand," he said, urging her to extrapolate.

Sarah shook her head, not willing to meet his eyes. "I wasn't you, not really. He just reminded me so much of you that I got too attached."

"You were on a mission," Chuck stated, moving to a sitting position to alleviate the building discomfort in his kneecaps.

"Yes. It wasn't even the first mission after I left you or the second. It was more like the twentieth. At that point in time, I had actually fooled myself into believing that I was over the drama surrounding the Intersect mission," she stated, with a sardonic laugh.

Chuck just looked at her intently, willing to be a good listener. It was obvious she had never shared this with anyone other than the CIA shrink and he might not have even gotten the full story.

"I was in Russia tracing some suspicious arms shipments. David was my asset during the mission. He worked as head of security at the ports. It wasn't about seduction because he was a willing participant in the job, but we were forced to spend a lot of time together. The assignment lasted two months, which is abnormally long. We became friendly," she said, drawing to a pause.

"Like you and I," Chuck offered, sensing her hesitancy.

"Yes and no. At first glance, he could have been your twin brother. I almost requested a reassignment on the spot. His nature was even more like you than his looks. I tried hard to separate my memories and feelings for you from my interactions with him, but I never quite succeeded. I got into that muddy area that agents are never supposed to go. Before I knew it, the mission was complete and it was time for me to go," Sarah explained further.

"But you couldn't leave," Chuck assumed, becoming uncomfortable by the emotions the conversation elicited inside of him. He moved away from Sarah ever so slightly.

"No, actually. I was about to board a plane for the States when I got a call from another local contact. He told me that David had been captured by the men whose shipments we apprehended. I had orders to leave and I was still going to, until I thought about you and what you would think. I went after him, getting myself captured in the process. They put us in rooms right next to each other. I could hear his screams as they tortured him. The bastards knew her didn't have any information, but they also knew I wouldn't fold to physical pressure. After days of screaming, reality started to blur. I convinced myself that you were the one in the other room. I tried to get out. They had my hands tied so tightly to the chair. My wrists were so bloody," Sarah confessed.

She physically brought her wrists into her field of vision, even though her eyes were unfocused. His eyes misting slightly, despite male wiring, Chuck grabbed Sarah's hands from the air, folding them together with his own. He attempted to make soothing motions with his thumbs. Sarah didn't notice, too caught up in remembrances.

"I don't really know how I got free, but the screams had stooped and I needed to know why. You were...he was dead when I got there. They just left him lying on the floor in his own blood. I heard one of the guards laugh behind me. He was just leaning against the wall like nothing had happened. I attacked him. He got in some knife strikes, as you can tell from my stomach. I was too enraged, however. He died and I killed anyone else I met on the way out of the building. My physical wounds healed, but I never quite got over it. I couldn't," Sarah said, her voice cracking throughout and showing serious emotion with the last sentence.

Chuck could hold back no longer. He pulled Sarah into a firm hug. Her trembling body easily folded into his. Sarah's breath was coming in quick bursts, as she fought off the onslaught of tears.

"It's ok Sarah. It's ok to cry," Chuck whispered into her ear.

Sarah gripped his shirt tightly, still fighting back the tears. "I am so sorry Chuck, for everything. I hate this business. It makes you into something you don't ever want to be. God, I must be going through delayed PTSD. Nothing makes sense."

Without a second thought, Chuck cupped Sarah's chin and tilted her face. He knew what he was about to do was the right decision. Looking her fiercely in the eye, he said, "I forgive you Sarah. I forgive you."

Sarah's shock was evident. She pulled her face from Chuck's grasp, but they remained close. "Why," she sputtered.

"Because it's harder to live with the anger, especially after learning so much about you these last few days. I understand why you did what you did. It doesn't make it right, but I understand. Mostly though, it's because I have feelings for you. I thought I could squash them with indifference, but nothing works," he confessed.

Before he could finish his statement, Sarah's lips were crushing his. She grabbed his shirt even tighter, pulling him closer to her body. After a momentary hesitation due to shock, Chuck responded to Sarah's feverish kissing with pulling and pressure of his own. Once the need for oxygen overpowered their passion, the pair broke their lip-lock. Sarah lightly placed her head on Chuck's shoulder, while he wiped perspiration from his brow.

"What are we doing," Chuck panted.

"We're doing what feels right. I have feelings for you too Chuck. I fought them since the kiss on the docks. When the NSA put a kill order out on you, I never thought we'd live long enough for them to matter. I don't want to squander this chance," she said, meeting his intense gaze.

Like some scene out of a trashy romance novel, Chuck and Sarah crashed together once more. Their movement was more desperate and lust filled. They each took their turn pulling at the others clothing. Unconsciously, they rose from the floor in unison, crawling onto the bed and into kneeling positions. Chuck managed to get Sarah's button down sweater off without breaking their kiss. His t-shirt, however, proved a bit more problematic. They each took a moment to admire the others body before again connecting.

Chuck lovingly ran his hand down the curve of Sarah's back. She, on the other hand, dug her nails into Chuck's shoulders, leaving light scratches across his skin. Chuck growled at the sensations, moving his lips to her neck. A few nips got Sarah reciprocating noises. Giving into her building passion, Sarah grabbed the front of Chuck's jeans and undid the button. She was about to pull down the zipper when a hand stopped her.

Confused, Sarah brought her gaze from his groin to his face. "What's wrong," she asked.

For a moment, Chuck struggled with how to formulate his response. "Don't commit me again. I don't think I could take it," he said, immediately kicking himself for how lame and girly it sounded.

Sarah knew what his words meant, however, and responded without a hint of hesitation. She finished undoing his pants and brought their lips together in another fierce battle. It was enough for Chuck. He kicked his pants off, pushing Sarah down onto the mattress.

_--Wouldn't you like to know--_

Several hours later, Chuck and Sarah laid entangled in one another and the sheets. Sarah had her head in the crook of Chuck's shoulder, while he wrapped an arm around her waist. Both were content to lay there forever and stare at the ceiling.

"So you were the youngest agent ever to be made Deputy Director of a department," Chuck asked, for clarification purposes.

"Uh huh," Sarah said absentmindedly, engrossed in the patterns she was drawing on Chuck's arm.

"That's awesome," he exclaimed.

Sarah laughed at the familiar phrase. "Yeah, I guess it is. I've never really thought too much about it. All it really means is that I have more paper work to fill out and meetings to attend."

"Well I think it's something to be proud of," Chuck mumbled, battling off a yawn.

Sarah turned on her side, placing her warm palm against Chuck's slightly cooler chest. It had a calming effect on both of them. "Go to sleep Chuck. I'll be here when you wake up," Sarah assured, giving him a brief kiss on the lips.

"Umkay," Chuck said groggily, already falling into the land of dreams. "Love you."

Sarah tensed, closing her eyes. She knew it was an offhanded comment borne out of intense comfort and familiarity, but it was also the first time Chuck had ever said it to her. Summoning all of her courage, she opened her eyes and said, "I love you too."

Sadly, Chuck had already left the land of the living. Sarah let out an exasperated sigh and vowed to tell her new lover the first chance she discovered. Burrowing deeper into the covers and Chuck's embrace, Sarah gradually drifted off to sleep.

--

__

He was trapped in a narrow hallway, forced to crouch down for fear of hitting his head. A giant black mist chased him from corner to corner. No crevice was safe. Doors that should have been open weren't. He saw the information inside of them, but his codes wouldn't work. Tunnels he had just passed through locked behind him.

As the mist closed in on him, his surroundings transformed from familiar to sinister. They began to attack one another. Somehow, Chuck knew that if he could just solve the puzzle surrounding the red door, he would be safe.

He tried everything he could to enter the room. His entire body itched from the effort. The mist changed to water, washing Chuck down the hall, away from the red door. He felt himself weakening. Something pulled at his legs, dragging him below the water.

"No, someone help. No!," he screamed.

No one came to help.

--

"Help! No!"

"Chuck, wake up. You're having a nightmare," Sarah said, as soothingly as she could manage. His anguished voice had dragged her from slumber. She nearly choked him out of pure instinct. When she realized what was going on, she tried frantically to rouse the man next to her.

His thrashing finally subsided, after minutes of failed name calling and shoulder shaking. Sarah waited impatiently for his eyes to open. When they didn't cooperate, she once more resorted to verbal communication.

"Chuck, what's going on?"

Giving the room a confused glance, Chuck turned his head to the concerned blond next to him. The concern in her eyes heartened him. "Sorry, I had a nightmare," he explained.

Sarah nodded her head in false understanding. "About the hospital," she said.

"No," Chuck countered, shaking his head. Using his elbows, he pushed himself into a sitting position. Sarah moved away slightly, following his lead.

"It was about the Intersect. I think I know what's wrong."

Reminded of the dire situations in which they still lived, Sarah gripped Chuck's arm tightly.

"What?"

"It's a virus."


	9. When Clues Confuse and Authors Go Crazy

_I don't know. It might be the sleep deprivation. Let me know what you think._

* * *

**Sarah's Home**

Sarah stared at Chuck in shock and confusion. "Like the flu," she questioned.

"Like a computer virus or maybe a conglomeration of them both. We need to get to the Intersect facility so that I can talk to the technicians and confirm my hypothesis," Chuck explained, shoving the sheets off of his body. Normally, after his first time with a girl, he would have been extremely uneasy walking around nude, but his mind was so preoccupied with the dream he had that it didn't even register.

Sarah noticed, however, and fought back the primal urge to drag Chuck under the sheets for another round. Sighing at life's fickleness, Sarah slid off of the bed and into her jeans. When the pair faced each other several minutes later, they were both fully clothed. They were also shrouded in an air of awkwardness. Too much time had passed as they zippered zippers and buttoned buttons. The light of day brought with it realities that the moon had deterred.

Neither member of the couple voiced concerns about the new awareness. Stubbornness and denial were traits that had developed well in Chuck and Sarah.

"We'll take my car. It's equipped with sirens and lights. Shouldn't take us more than twenty minutes at this time of day," Sarah said.

"Sounds good," Chuck replied, clapping his hands against his thighs.

" Then let's go," Sarah muttered, swiftly passing by Chuck and entering the hallway.

The trip to the car was short. The only detours occurred when Sarah stopped to grab her keys and several granola bars. Chuck followed Sarah out of the house like a well trained puppy. Neither of them said a word. The longer the silence persisted, the more strained they both felt.

Sarah handed Chuck his assembly line prepared breakfast. He gave her a small smile before devouring the honey flavored grains. Sarah ignored his behavior and gingerly opened her own package. Flipping on the car's lights, she shot out of the driveway. Chuck's surprised yelp as he was forced into his seat did nothing to crack Sarah's indifferent exterior.

True to her word, Sarah pulled into the warehouse's parking lot twenty minutes later. To avoid attracting attention, she had been forced to kill the car's flashing lights several miles beforehand. Putting the car in park, she pushed the door open and heaved herself into the cool morning air.

As Sarah exited the car without a word, Chuck's patience crumbled. The tense silence hung over his head like a rain cloud, drenching his clothes and making him shiver. He couldn't let the day progress any further without proper communication.

"Sarah wait," he pleaded, barely catching her fingertips in his outstretched hand.

His carefully crafted speech fled his mind when she turned her eyes on him. Her windows were filled with so much turmoil that Chuck's throat dried up like the Sahara.

Pulling Sarah inches from his body, Chuck delicately brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, saying, "We're going to be OK, Sarah. I'm going to be fine."

"You don't know that for sure," she said, closing her eyes at the thoughts his words brought forth.

"Hey, look at me," Chuck ordered, tapping his fingers along her concerned brow. When he was sure that he had her attention, he continued.

"My odds are pretty high, considering who I have fighting with me. Your kung-fu combined with my brains and good looks are a dynamite combination," he said softly, giving her a reassuring grin.

Sarah laid her head against Chuck's chest with a giant sigh. The caring hand rubbing circles on her back gave her the strength to utter her next words. "I love you. I can't let this go on without telling you. I'm sorry I let us get into such a funk this morning."

At first, Chuck was too dumbfounded to respond. Sarah's proclamation was everything that he had ever desired. Years of drugs and therapy had beaten any hope out of him, but one sentence uttered by the illusive Sarah Walker resuscitated Chuck's spirit. You couldn't have burned the grin off of his face.

"Wow. This is such a contrast. One week ago I was contemplating suicide and now I have you telling me your inner most feelings. Surreal doesn't cover half of it," Chuck exclaimed.

Sarah regretted her words instantly, misunderstanding Chuck's reaction. "I know we have a lot to work through. There are things we both need to reconcile, but you said it last night and I wanted to reciprocate. I knew you were drowsy. I shouldn't have assumed it meant anything," Sarah rambled, in an uncharacteristic moment of self-consciousness.

"Slow down Sarah. You didn't say anything wrong. Instead of spouting off analytical thoughts, I should have simply kissed you and explained that I too am totally in love with you," he said, bringing his face closer to Sarah's.

Sarah lifted her head from Chuck's chest to meet his advance. Their lips touched tentatively before gaining confidence. Both members of the party resisted the urge to tear the others clothes off and sink to the textured pavement. In a more prudent course of action, they broke the connection, taking steps back from one another in an effort to gain control. Sarah ran a firm hand along her wrinkled clothing before giving Chuck a dazzling grin.

His returning look was just as joyous.

"I need one more kiss and then we have to get down to business. I'm not going to be Sarah the woman who loves you when we walk into that building. I'm going to try my damnedest to be Deputy Director and former Special Agent Walker because that's what we need to get out of this mess," Sarah explained, quickly closing the distance to Chuck's mouth.

"Well I...umph," Chuck began saying, only to be assaulted by the very capable kisser.

After several seconds, Sarah pulled away from the intimate encounter. On her way to the building's entrance she did what Chuck could only describe as sauntering. The behavior both excited and frustrated the human computer, as he scampered after her.

Entering the building, the couple met no resistance. Sarah's guard was up as she led Chuck down the hallway to Intersect Command. Reaching the door, she entered her code and pressed her thumb to the hi-tech knob. Several clicks were heard before Sarah pushed into the room.

"You've got to be kidding me. 'We Are Smarter Than A Fifth Grader'? Not even Morgan and I would be that corny," Chuck admonished, catching a glimpse of the room's information plaque.

Sarah rolled her eyes, "The CIA doesn't pay people to be witty Chuck. We get paid to do our job better than everyone else," she corrected.

"Holy crap!" Chuck exclaimed, forgetting whatever biting retort he was about to deliver. The sight that greeted him past the bulletproof door was breathtaking. It was like a scene straight out of Star Trek.

Rows and rows of computers filled the main opening. The glass wall that they all faced was filled with circuit boards and fiber optic cables. Three armed guards stood menacingly in front of the glass's protective railing.

"There's no way this stuff is anywhere near the market. What kind of processor do you use? Are all of these computers synced? Wait a minute, is that the Intersect," Chuck questioned.

Before Sarah had a chance to respond to Chuck's rambling inquiries, a voice boomed from the walkway above their heads. "It is indeed Mr. Carmichael. Our hard version anyway," said the clearly masculine voice.

The couple whirled around to face the mysterious voice. Chuck's movements were exaggerated, showing surprise. Sarah moved with control that exemplified her years of training. Her hands briefly twitched toward her waist.

"Who is that," Chuck wondered.

Sarah watched the man warily, saying, "He's head of the Intersect program."

Sarah's tone was more strained than usual. Chuck turned his gaze to her in concern. "Is he your boss or something," Chuck asked, trying to find the source of the barely veiled hostility.

"Technically, I'm his boss, but he has more years in than I do and doesn't let me forget it. I don't entirely trust him," Sarah explained, adjusting her eyes to watch the elevated man make his way down the stairs.

"Do you entirely trust anyone," Chuck mused.

A dark look crossed Sarah's face before it could be replaced with mirth. She gave Chuck a small grin. "Only you," she assured.

"I thought you were nothing more than CIA Agent Walker in here," Chuck teased back, trying his best to ignore the uneasy feeling that her changing moods aroused.

A voice once again interrupted the conversation before Sarah could reply. She was grateful for the distraction.

"Agent Walker, Mr. Carmichael, I didn't expect to see you back so soon. I'm Bob Smart," the man said, offering his hand to Chuck, who reluctantly took it. Bob's grip was firm. Chuck irrationally wondered where he could buy a Grip Master.

"Nice to meet you," Chuck mumbled, in the awkward manner with which he was born.

"We came back to talk to you and the specialists. Chuck thinks he may know what's going on," Sarah stated, placing her hands on her hips.

Bob's eyes widened briefly, as if surprised by the new development. He gave Chuck an appraising glance. "Really," Bob questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. He had no idea how valuable of an asset Chuck had been to the federal government.

Chuck cast his eyes toward the ground, some of his commitment wrought tendencies surfacing. He had never had a problem with authority before, but everything changed in his time at Gateways. "I had a dream. I think it was more than that. It's just a theory," he said, lacking confidence.

Sarah fought back the urge to defend Chuck. She would have to boost his ego in private from that point forward.

"Unfortunately, I'm about to leave for a meeting at HQ, which you too should be attending Deputy Director Walker," Bob explained, giving Sarah a pointed look.

Chuck gave Sarah a mildly panicked glance. He most definitely did not want to be left alone with nothing but blood thirsty CIA personnel. Sarah just gave Bob a false smile in response.

"I'll be staying here to oversee the last remaining human Intersect. Deputy Director's privilege. I've already been briefed," Sarah gloated.

Bob looked steamed. Chuck thought he was going to start a duel in the middle of CIA property. Instead, he simply said, "If that's the case, I'd like a word with you before I leave."

Sarah nodded her head in agreement. Bob put his hand on Chuck's shoulder and pointed to a far off door adorned with a painted red cross. "Why don't you head over there and get checked out by the nurses?"

Chuck looked to Sarah for instruction. With a tilt of her head, she indicated that he should follow Bob's suggestion. Rolling his eyes at the pissing contest he had just witnessed, Chuck ventured further into the command center. Once he passed through the suggested door, he was greeted by several familiar faces from the Upload Room.

They led him to a paper covered medical table. Chuck gave momentary resistance when they told him to take his shirt off, but he had little choice in the matter. Several suction cup devices were pressed onto his forehead and chest. Two nurses were busy taking his blood-pressure and heart rate when Sarah breezed into the room.

If she was at all surprised by his state of dress, she didn't show it. Instead, she shuffled to the side, allowing a twenty-something young man to enter. Chuck felt uncomfortable having so many people staring at him and his bare upper body.

"This is Greg Swan. He discovered the problem with the Intersect and has been heading the recovery effort. He would like to hear your thoughts," Sarah explained, trying to make her words sound encouraging.

When the ravenous nurses took the monitoring equipment off of his body and handed him his shirt, Chuck couldn't get dressed fast enough. He hopped off of the table, saying, "I have some questions first."

"Shoot," Greg responded.

"What exactly happened to the other Intersects," he asked, hesitantly.

"When I realized the problem with the Intersect computer, we had an emergency upload session for our most successful human assets. Unlike you, they couldn't consciously access the information at all," Greg explained, talking with his hands.

Chuck's mouth opened slightly in surprise. "I'm the only one who was able to initiate the retrieval process?"

"Yes. When given trigger images, the others had no reaction other than a shooting pain in their heads. After the failure of our best, we were desperate to know what was going on. We uploaded the data into all of our assets," he said, looking back and forth between Chuck and Sarah.

"And they all died," Sarah supplied.

"Within forty-eight hours," he agreed, stopping to take a piece of paper from one of the remaining nurses.

"What were their symptoms and progression," Chuck asked, as he watched Greg frown at the paper in his hands.

Slightly startled from his intense perusal, Greg said, "They were very fatigued, but that's normal after uploads so we weren't overly concerned. They began to complain about migraines and the chills. Body temperatures rose across the board, with brains becoming alarmingly hot. We're still working on a conclusive cause of death. Their brains just stopped working."

"What's so interesting about that piece of paper," Sarah asked harshly, angered by Swan's lack of attention.

"These are Chuck's vitals," he explained, shaking the paper.

"And," Sarah questioned, in a more concerned tone.

Even though he had already memorized the information, Greg glanced at the sheet, saying, "His temps are up a full degree, with his brain showing a greater increase. Are you having any headaches?"

Chuck swallowed heavily at the revelation. "No more than usual. I'm just perpetually tired."

Greg shook his head in understanding. "All of the assets showed significant temperature increases and head pain within ten hours of upload. You're going on fifteen hours, with very little response."

"What does that mean? Do you think he has some kind of immunity,"Sarah interrogated, unconsciously moving closer to Chuck.

"No, I don't think so. He is showing signs similar to what to others experienced. He may, however, have an inherent resistance," the analyst explained.

"That makes sense, if what Sarah said about my success rates is true. Your findings also mesh well with my theory," Chuck exclaimed, happy to uncover any positive news.

"Director Walker said you had some sort of dream," Greg questioned.

"I think it was a personification of the Intersect programming. If I'm right, what killed the others and is hindering the computer is some sort of virus," Chuck volunteered.

Greg looked like he was ready to fall flat on his face. "Of course," he said, smacking himself upside the head," we got so set into the mentality that the minuteness of the connection was causing the problems that I didn't even consider malfeasance."

Thankful that his theory was so well received, Chuck allowed himself a small grin. "How do you think they did it? Can you get access to the programming?"

Greg vigorously shook his head, turning on his heel and exiting the room. Chuck quickly and eagerly followed him. Sarah was less than enthused by their behavior and valiantly tried to get them to slow down.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Does someone want to explain this sudden epiphany to me," she yelled at their retreating forms.

The two geeks slowed their pace, but didn't stop until they had reached the first row of computers. Sitting in chairs, the excited duo swiveled to face the frustrated Deputy Director. Chuck was the first to reply.

"Think about what we know. The machine version of the Intersect stopped working when this new data was entered. When the human versions received the data, they began to deteriorate. Something was different about the new data set. It was corrupted."

Sarah arched her eyebrow, indicating a persisting lack of understanding. Chuck struggled to help Sarah make the connection.

"When a computer gets overworked or is insufficient, it heats up. Eventually, if it isn't turned off or fixed, it crashes. Our brains are just like computers, which is what the Intersect program sought to exploit. Something caused the Intersect to work continuously. I'm willing to bet the answer lies in the data encoding," he said.

"So the overheating and the headaches were because someone altered the default programming of the Intersect," Sarah said, finally indicating understanding.

"Exactly," Greg chimed.

"Will getting the Intersect out of his head kill the virus, like wiping the hard drive of a computer," Sarah wondered aloud, a well of hope spurting from her heart.

The technician looked at her regretfully, saying, "It might buy us some time, give his brain less of a burden, but I doubt it would touch the effects of whatever programming was used. Your analogy would require the removal of everything but basic brain function, which has never been done successfully."

"We might even need the Intersect programming, if there is an antidote to find," Chuck interjected, regretting his superior knowledge of computers. He wished he could be ignorant to the precariousness of his life.

"First thing's first. We need to find out where the data came from and identify the malicious code," Greg stated.

"Can you write new code to offset the effects," Sarah asked.

"Possibly. Chances are that whoever engineered this had an antidote. If we can get a name, you cloak and dagger guys can do your thing while Chuck and I work on our own program," Greg responded.

"How do we get the name," Chuck wondered.

Greg swiveled himself to face the computer. Grabbing the keyboard, he began typing furiously. After several tense moments where he had Chuck and Sarah's rapt attention, he cursed under his breath.

"What's wrong," Chuck and Sarah said simultaneously.

"The system introduced increased safety measures when we changed the threat level. I need higher authorization to access the search system," he explained.

Chuck smiled. "Isn't it lucky that we have the Deputy Director of North American Operations at our disposal."

Sarah's face remained impassive as she ploughed past the two seated men. Once she was satisfied that they weren't watching her, she typed in her security code, pausing slightly on the last keystroke. When she turned around, her face was confused.

"It didn't work," she said.

"What." Greg said, in exasperation. He politely moved Sarah out of the way to gain visual of the computer screen. "Looks like we're going to have to do this the hard way."

"I need to make a phone call," Sarah said, retreating from the action.

Chuck longed to go with her, to feel her lips against his own. Instead, he turned back toward the young man furiously typing next to him. When minutes went by with nothing for him to do but stare, Chuck became restless.

"I'm going to go stretch my legs a bit and fetch Agent Walker for the big reveal," Chuck informed, pushing his chair back from the desk.

The analyst simply nodded his head and mumbled an acknowledgement, continuing to work his way through layer after layer of CIA security. The sound of keys being rapidly depressed faded as Chuck moved into the hallway. Following the signs, Chuck entered the sparse but immaculate men's room. He took a second to look at himself in the mirror. The face staring back at him clearly represented the toll that the virus and his current predicament were taking on his body. The skin surrounding his eyes was swollen. The hint of a beard did nothing to dissuade the haggard vibe he emitted.

Sighing in frustration, Chuck activated the sink's water sensors. Cupping his hands to catch the liquid, Chuck gave his face a shocking splash. He let the water cascade over his skin, reveling in the cooling effect.

The restroom only had the more environmentally friendly air dryers so Chuck pulled the edges of his shirt up and patted himself dry. A habitual final glance in the mirror revealed the same exhausted man that had entered.

With muted enthusiasm, Chuck went off in search of Sarah. She wasn't in the ladies room or any other room that he checked. Giving up, Chuck ventured back into the 'Fifth Grade' room. He was about to report his futile mission to Greg when he heard noises coming from an adjacent office.

Proceeding cautiously, Chuck tried to mask his steps until he was sure of the room's occupant. Several feet from the door, Chuck recognized Sarah's familiar form. He was about to hasten his steps and offer an affectionate greeting when the words that she uttered reached his ears. Thinking quickly, he moved himself into a nearby doorway.

"I have the situation under control. He won't be a problem," Sarah said sternly.

She remained silent for a moment. Chuck assumed that the individual on the other side of call was speaking, but he couldn't translate the muffled sounds into words.

"They're accessing the information now. Depending what comes out, the plan may need minor adjustments," Sarah informed, pacing the room briefly.

More silence.

Chuck struggled to make heads or tails of the situation. Sarah's words weren't congruent with their current situation. He had no idea what plan she was referring to. If there were a plan on the record, he wouldn't have to be so damn worried.

"It doesn't matter what happened between us. It wasn't what I intended, but it helps the situation in which you put us. He'll listen to me unconditionally," Sarah assured the other person.

Chuck was incensed. He was willing to bet his life that she was referring to him and their activities the previous evening. The Chuck who promised to look out for himself in the Intersect room was having a good laugh at the Chuck who so easily fell into Sarah Walker's bed.

Relaying a few more choice words, Sarah flipped her cell phone closed. The shaking hand that she ran through her hair barely registered to Chuck. He was too livid to notice nuances in her words or behavior.

"I'm such an idiot. I can't believe I let myself be so easily lured back into your web," Chuck said, stepping out of the shadows.

Sarah's eyes widened in shock, her mouth opening slightly. "No, Chuck. Whatever you think you heard was misconstrued."

"He won't be a problem. I have him under control," Chuck mocked, "I don't think there's much to misunderstand. Seduction was your mission all along"

Sarah moved closer to Chuck, extending a comforting arm. Chuck skirted away from her advance. "Don't jump to conclusions, Chuck. You've done that before and it didn't turn out very well," Sarah argued, reeling in her limb.

The look she gave Chuck made him pause. The intensity of her stare was scary. He could tell that she desperately wanted him to believe her words. He was about to respond when Greg burst into the room.

"We're about to get the information. Come on," he panted, out of breath from his exuberant search for the duo.

Before Chuck could argue, Sarah was moving past him. Letting loose a silent scream, Chuck followed the CIA agents back to the computer pit. Taking his place beside Greg, Chuck felt a ominous sense of unease. The fact that Sarah was hovering over him with her arms crossed behind her back didn't help matters.

"I finally got access to the upload information. We're just waiting for the system to finish its search. Shouldn't take long. Not that many people have the authority to create Intersect data," Greg explained, more for Sarah's benefit. Chuck knew the extra security measures were frustrating to encounter but fairly simple for government assets to bypass.

The machine beeped, indicating a completed process. Chuck inched forward in anticipation, clenching his fists. After a few tense seconds, a new window materialized on the computer screen. A three word name appeared. Greg let out a low whistle. Chuck blanched.

"Shit," he said, nearly drowning out the sound of guns cocking behind him.

Chuck didn't have to turn around to know that there was a deadly weapon pointed at his head. All he had to do was look at the name displayed in black and white.

_Sarah Lisa Walker_


	10. When The Desired Title Doesn't Fit

_Sorry for the delay. Thanks to Bill for the beta. Any lack of Charah goodness can be blamed on him._ _Two or three more chapters I think._

**Intersect Command**

"Use these to secure Greg's ankle to the desk," Sarah instructed, dangling a pair of handcuffs in front of Chuck's face.

Clenching his teeth, Chuck tore the cuffs from Sarah's grasp. He angrily got on all fours and clipped one loop of the cuffs loosely around the analyst's ankle. The other end was clipped to the metal leg of the bulky computer desk. Once the task was completed, Chuck rose to his feet, turning to face the woman who had betrayed him.

Sarah tightened the grip on her gun, seeing the look in Chuck's eyes. She could clearly read his anger, pain, and determination. Reaching behind her back, she produced another pair of restraints. She handed them to Chuck. He looked at her expectantly.

"Please cuff your hands behind your back," she said.

Chuck blew out an exasperated breath before complying with her instructions. "You're holding a gun to my head, there's really no need for niceties," he growled.

Sarah opened her mouth, as if to deliver some sort of response, but quickly shut it in favor of silence. Chuck didn't notice the spy's conflicted actions. He was too intent on maneuvering things he could not see. Hearing the click of success, he tugged on the molded metal to demonstrate his predicament.

Ignoring Chuck, Sarah turned her attention to the wide mouthed CIA analyst. "I want you to stay here and work on an antidote. Study the code and find some kind of cure. I'm taking Chuck to the Upload Room."

Despite his restrained status, Greg felt the need to protest. "I don't think that's such a good idea. We don't know how his brain will react to another uplink," the analyst said.

"You just stay here and work on a solution. I'll handle the Intersect," Sarah ordered, adjusting her gun.

Greg's eyes widened at the gesture. "Of course. Can't go anywhere even if I wanted to and believe me, there are a lot of places I'd rather be," he stuttered.

"Enough of the mind games Sarah. Let's just get this over with," Chuck interjected, shouldering past her. If she decided to shoot him in the back for insubordination, he didn't care. Nothing mattered to him, at that point in time.

"Fine, Chuck. Lead the way," Sarah acquiesced, holstering her gun. Despite the fact that she was no longer brandishing a deadly weapon, neither man made a move to escape or subdue. Instead, Chuck trudged across the vast computer center and Greg swiveled to face his computer screen.

"Do you even know where you're going," Sarah questioned, coming up behind a befuddled Chuck.

"Of course I know where I'm going," he lied.

"Well, unless the Upload Room has been transported somewhere else, we're going the wrong way," Sarah corrected, grabbing Chuck's elbow.

Her touch was like lighter fluid on a bonfire. Chuck exploded, jerking his body out of Sarah's grasp. In his haste to get away, he lost his balance and stumbled into the wall. Without his hands to brace for impact, Chuck's shoulder took the brunt of the collision. It was a miracle that he managed to stay on his feet.

"What the hell are you doing," Sarah asked, aghast at the scene that played out in front of her eyes.

Chuck rolled himself over so that his back was against the wall. "Don't touch me," he ordered, choppy breath betraying his racing heart. "I don't want you to ever touch me again. If you're going to kill me, get it over with."

Sarah pursed her lips, contemplating the best course of action to calm the erratic man before her. "Look, I don't have time to explain things to you right now but there is an explanation."

Chuck gave a disbelieving snort, pushing himself off of the wall. "Are you trying to tell me that you submitted the corrupt Intersect information and pulled a gun on me but you're still one of the good guys?"

Sarah averted her gaze to the ground. When she returned it to Chuck, he could see despair swimming laps in her pools of vibrant blue. To even further unsettle the newly minted government asset, she said, "I don't know what side I'm on anymore."

"What I do know is that I don't want you to die. We're going to get this contraption out of your brain and go from there," Sarah continued.

"Fine," Chuck exclaimed, not quite sure how to handle the intense situation.

"The room is three doors down on the right," Sarah supplied, letting Chuck take the lead.

Without a word, he followed her instructions. Waiting briefly for Sarah to open the door, the pair entered a darkened command center. Chuck could clearly see the Upload Room through an adjacent door. Sarah led him through that door and to the edge of the white medical chair. With less casualness than she displayed before, Sarah grabbed Chuck's arm and undid his cuffs. Chuck positioned himself on the chair and Sarah strapped him down.

"What's with the handcuffs, if you're not a bad guy," Chuck asked, skeptically.

"I'm sorry about that. I needed to get you in here without a fuss. I'm not sure who's watching or who I can trust," Sarah explained.

Chuck nodded his head, accepting her explanation, but not agreeing with it.

"I'm going to go set everything up. I'll be able to talk to you through the intercom," she explained.

"You do know what you're doing right," Chuck wondered, a hint of nervousness cracking his voice.

"Yes," Sarah answered, as she exited the Upload Room and entered the command center.

Flipping on the power switch and selecting the right computer programs, Sarah prepared the equipment for extraction mode. Making a few more slight adjustments, she grabbed the nearby microphone and employed the intercom.

"Here we go. Just sit back and relax," Sarah said soothingly.

Not waiting for a response from Chuck, she pushed the activation button. Intently, Sarah watched as the room brightened and began displaying images. A special film on the one way mirror prevented viewers in the command center from encoding any information.

Sarah's happiness at the machine's progress was short lived, however. Lights began to flicker, as a loud roar penetrated the room's thick walls. The building shook violently, triggering shrill alarms. Sarah was about to end the upload process when the power went out completely. The emergency lights came on immediately, but Sarah lunged for the Upload Room entrance. Stopping the process with the proper authorization would have allowed for detox images to be displayed. A power failure did not offer the same luxury. Sarah wasn't sure what to expect.

Throwing the door open, Sarah noticed that Chuck's body was arched slightly in the air. His fists were tightly clenched. She hurried to his side and removed the restraining straps. At a closer proximity, Sarah noticed that Chuck was shaking. She had to bring him back to consciousness.

"Chuck,can you hear me?"

His only response was a moan. Sarah struggled with how to revive him. A crazy thought struck her. She had no idea whether it would work, but she placed her hand over Chuck's closed eyes.

"Chuck, open your eyes for me."

"Can't," he mumbled.

"Please try," she urged.

Sarah felt Chuck's eyelashes flutter against her palm. Gradually, she spread her fingers to allow more and more light to filter into his pupils. When his hand swatted hers away, she knew that he was functional.

"What happened," Chuck asked, his voice cracking.

Sarah helped him sit up, saying,"Either someone's attacking the building or there's been some freak explosion. No matter what, we have to get out of here."

"Let's go," he said. Chuck got to his feet, only to plummet to the ground quickly thereafter.

"Chuck," Sarah yelled, scrambling to his side,"What's wrong?"

"Just out of sorts. My feet don't seem to be responding," he said, grabbing his head.

"Let me help. We need to move now," she offered, throwing his arm over her shoulder and hauling him to his feet.

After a few feet of stumbling and adjusting, they found a rhythm. Exiting the command center, Sarah was surprised to see thick smoke filling the hallway.

"Sarah, Chuck," yelled a voice from the other end of the hall.

"Bryce," Chuck shouted over the noise, astonishment prevalent in his tone. Sarah released the hasty grip she had put on her gun, as a head of jet black hair appeared through the smoke.

"What are you doing here," she questioned, equally as astounded by the agent's appearance as Chuck.

"News of the attack leaked out. I came to warn you guys. Looks like I was too late," he said, flashing a cocky grin.

"It's so good to see a friendly face," Chuck exclaimed. His glee at having another helping hand caused him to miss the pained look that briefly graced Sarah's face.

"No time for chit chat, let's get out of here. I have a car waiting outside," Bryce explained, grabbing Chuck's free arm and slinging it over his shoulder.

Together, he and Sarah assisted a weary Chuck down the hallway. Sirens and explosions continued to resonate through the complex. Only the occasional falling ceiling tile impeded their progress, until Sarah stopped abruptly.

"Wait a minute," she said, maneuvering out of Chuck's grasp to face Bryce, "how could you have known we were even here. The information was eyes only."

"I told you, there was a leak," Bryce replied, following Sarah's example and shrugging off Chuck's arm. Chuck placed a hand on the nearest wall to remain upright. The exchange before him tied knots in his stomach. It was like he could sense the impending doom.

Sarah reached for her gun. "That doesn't make sense. It would have had to be from our side. Why wouldn't you call it in," she said, bringing her weapon forward.

Unfortunately, Bryce was faster. He whipped out six inch long piece of molded plastic that strangely resembled a remote control. Two dart-like entities connected to the box by wires struck Sarah's stomach. Her gun clattered to the floor, quickly followed by her body. A grotesque scream broke through the blaring alarms. Sarah's writhing quickly stopped, leaving her body lying motionless on the floor.

"Why did you do that," Chuck asked, astounded by the series of events he had just witnessed. He didn't need to ask what happened. Endless months in a mental institution had familiarized him with the array of non-lethal weapons.

Bryce tucked the taser into one of the hidden compartments in his vest. He looked Chuck straight in the eye, saying, "Because she's rogue. She was going to kill you."

Instinctively, Chuck wanted to defend Sarah. Even though her name was all over the virus ridden Intersect file and she had pulled a gun on him, his gut told him to trust her. There was something about the sorrow in her eyes.

"I don't think tha-," Chuck began saying, only to be cut off by Bryce.

"Chuck, buddy, we don't have time for this. We need to get you somewhere safe. Are you all right to walk now," Bryce inquired.

"I think so," Chuck said, testing his stability.

"What's wrong with you anyway?"

Chuck hesitated. If he didn't fully trust Sarah, he certainly didn't trust Bryce's sudden reappearance, especially after his recent actions. There was no way he could tell him about the Intersect. "Just took a hit to the head during the explosion," Chuck lied.

Bryce eyed Chuck skeptically, but eventually shook his head in acknowledgement. "Well, be careful. It's shouldn't be too much longer to the exit," he encouraged.

Bryce set off down the hall. Chuck trailed behind him, one hand on the wall for guidance. He hesitated when he got to Sarah's prone form. Checking to make sure that Bryce wasn't paying attention, Chuck crouched to the ground. He grabbed Sarah's discarded gun and tucked it into his pant pocket. Adjusting his shirt to cover the protruding metal, Chuck hurried to catch up to Bryce's steady pace.

"You OK," Bryce asked, sensing that something was amiss.

Chuck swallowed heavily, averting his gaze. "Yeah. I just had to slow down for second. I'm still a little dizzy."

Despite Bryce's fast pace, the journey was arduous. He had to stop at every doorway and intersection to make sure the coast was clear. Once they reached the end of the hallway, Bryce motioned for Chuck to take cover next to the door with the giant EXIT sign above it. Chuck complied, folding himself into the corner.

"I'm going to check for any hostiles. There's a black BMW sedan parked fifty yards from our present location. Once I give you the signal, book it. If someone fires at you, run in a zigzag pattern," Bryce instructed, checking his gun and extra ammunition.

"Why would someone shoot at me? Wait, what's the signal? Is it a one, two, three count or something silent," Chuck rambled, as Bryce cautiously opened the door and disappeared.

Several seconds later he heard a faint 'Go' from outside. "Guess that's the signal," Chuck joked, pushing to his feet. Heaving in a deep breath, he threw the door open and ran. Thankfully, no gunfire rained down upon him. In mere seconds, his hand grasped the cool door handle of Bryce's BMW.

Bryce jogged up behind him, brandishing the keys. "Nice running," he te.ased. As they began to pull the doors open, a bullet crashed into the windshield inches from Chuck's terrified body. Both men spun on their heels. Chuck's mouth fell open in surprise. Bryce tightened his jaw.

"You shouldn't play the nice spy Bryce. You should have just shot me when you had the chance," Sarah spat, leaning heavily against the doorjamb Chuck had just exited.

"And you should have stayed down," Bryce fired back, moving around the car toward Chuck, who didn't know whether to dive into the car or jump into Sarah's arms.

Sarah mimicked Bryce's actions, advancing on their location. Her steps were strained, but determination flared in her eyes. She would have intimidated the most experienced spy, so she scared the socks off of Chuck. Bryce, however, seemed unfazed.

He pulled his gun from its holster and stopped several feet from Chuck. Sarah, who's gun had never wavered from its aim on Bryce, came to a stop on Chuck's other side. They formed a triangle, a very deadly triangle.

"What are you doing Bryce? Whatever it is, it's unsanctioned," Sarah inquired.

"Depends on who you're answering to. I came here to stop you," he replied.

"Stop me from what?"

"Taking the Intersect, killing him," Bryce said, a small smile appearing on his face. He knew his answer would needle both Sarah and Chuck.

"Excuse me," Chuck said.

Bryce flicked his gaze toward his old friend, but quickly returned it to the gun targeting him. "You didn't really think she could like a guy like you did you Chuck? She needed to get close to you three years ago and she needed to do the same three days ago. Fulcrum couldn't have a bunch of little Intersects running around the country."

"Shut up Bryce," Sarah yelled, taking a small step toward the shorter man.

Bryce's small smile morphed into a full blown look of glee. "She didn't tell you Chuck? Sarah went rogue. She joined Fulcrum years ago."

Like it would if a literal bomb had been dropped, silence filled the air. Everyone in the triangle took a step closer to one another.

"What," Chuck gasped.

Sarah could only spare him a quick look, but it was filled with regret. The one thing she didn't do was deny Bryce's accusations.

"Tell me it isn't true, Sarah," Chuck pleaded.

"She can't Chuck," Bryce laughed.

"Shut up," Sarah said, shaking her gun. "It's not entirely true Chuck. I just can't explain it to you right now."

"Come on Sarah, doesn't he deserve an explanation. You were going to terminate him, if the virus didn't do it," Bryce goaded.

"I was not," Sarah said, before drawing to a pause. Something had struck her. Her mind started to connect the dots. "How could you know about that Bryce? There's not that big of a leak and we just discovered the virus."

"Can't say. Confidential," Bryce stated, with less bravado.

"It was you," Sarah proclaimed, lowering her gun slightly.

"Don't try and pin this on me," Bryce countered.

"All this time we've been working together and I didn't see it. You went in to take down Fulcrum, but they turned you instead," Sarah postulated.

"No, I'm not the one who committed treason. That would be you," Bryce replied.

The assassins would have continued bickering, but a gunshot interrupted their childish exchange. Instinctively, they both ducked. Realizing they weren't hurt, they turned their eyes on the source of the disturbance. They turned their eyes on Chuck, who lowered the gun from its position above his head and awkwardly aimed it in the agent's general direction.

"Just stop. Someone explain to me what is going on," Chuck ordered.

"Don't be silly," Bryce said.

"Chuck, please put down the gun," Sarah urged.

"Explain," Chuck yelled, squeezing off another shot.

Despite Chuck's obvious agitation, both agents kept their guns trained on one another. Sarah was the first to speak.

"Bryce is rogue, Chuck. He didn't come here to help us. He came here with the Fulcrum team to level the assault," Sarah explained.

"She could only know that because she's part of Fulcrum," Bryce argued.

"What does Fulcrum have to do with anything," Chuck asked, trying to focus the conversation.

Sarah sighed. "I joined Fulcrum over a year ago, just after the David situation. I was angry at the agency and my country for how they treated the both of you. I regretted the decision almost immediately and went to Director Graham. He was furious with me, but decided it was better to utilize than neutralize. I began working with Bryce to gather information, at least I thought we were working together," Sarah sneered.

"Don't listen to this bull, Chuck. She went rogue and she stayed rogue. It was always her goal to destroy the Intersect program and it looks like she finally found a way to do it," Bryce said.

Sarah shook her head vigorously.

"Initially, yes, I was furious about the resurrection of the human Intersect program, but I barely had any contact with it, inside and outside of Fulcrum. You, on the other hand, have always been knee deep in it. How did you corrupt the file and pin it on me," Sarah accused.

"I didn't," Bryce growled.

"That's right. You couldn't have. You don't have anywhere near enough authorization, even though you've been deep under for years. Someone must have helped you. Fulcrum must have another mole in the program. Someone with high clearance and intimate knowledge," Sarah supplied.

"Like the head of the Intersect sector," Chuck chimed in, unconsciously moving him gun toward Bryce.

"Of course, Bob Smart was your mentor. You and he consulted on the initial programming. How convenient. Did he introduce you to Fulcrum Bryce or was it the other way around," Sarah said, moving forward to take away any advantage Bryce had regarding proximity to Chuck. She knew he wouldn't try to shoot him. He needed Chuck for something.

"Why would he sabotage the Intersect program when it was his department," Bryce argued.

Sarah paused her big reveal momentarily, thrown off guard by his question. Her mind struggled to find the right equation. Chuck found it for her.

"The meeting," he said.

Sarah blanched. "Of course, his ascent of the company ladder has all but died. He was furious when I was promoted. You have something running at Langley," Sarah accused.

"You have a history with Bob too. It's your name on the virus file," Bryce argued, ignoring any talk of CIA Headquarters.

Chuck's arms moved more toward center. Bryce, however, wasn't going to wait for Sarah to act or Chuck to decide. He charged toward the female agent, barreling into her torso. Chuck fired, but his shot wasn't true. With Bryce and Sarah so close together, he couldn't risk another.

Sarah was caught off guard by Bryce's sudden actions. Her gun slid from her grasp and skipped across the asphalt, as her body crashed to the ground. Bryce put his hands around her throat, stealing the already depleted breath from her lungs. Sarah futilely struggled for a few seconds before swiping her legs in the air. Knocking Bryce off balance, Sarah was able to leverage herself into the dominant position.

She landed a few punches to the face before he managed to push her to the side. He was on her quickly, delivering two powerful punches to her rib cage. Her limbs momentarily froze from the pain. Using her weakness to his advantage, Bryce grabbed Sarah's neck. He used it to smash her head into the ground. It only took a few impacts for Sarah to go slack.

Getting on his haunches first, Bryce hopped to his feet. Dusting his pants off, he made his way toward a frantic Chuck. Clicks from an empty clip echoed through the still air. Bryce let out a small laugh.

"Come on Chuck, put the gun away. I really am here to help you," Bryce urged, invading Chuck's personal space.

"Like I believe you," Chuck replied.

"And you believe Sarah?"

Chuck hesitated. "I don't believe you, that's for sure."

"Sadly, it doesn't matter who you believe. You're coming with me," Bryce responded, grabbing Chuck's elbow.

Chuck struggled fervently, managing to push Bryce away. The agent stumbled backwards, but remained on his feet. He set his sights on Chuck, when the sound of a revving engine permeated his consciousness. Headlights appeared, temporarily blinding Bryce. The vehicle moved closer, but it wasn't slowing down. Bryce pulled out his gun and fired several shots. It was useless. The car hit him going 40 MPH.

Tires smoked, as the car screeched to a halt. Bryce, however, continued to move. He flew over Sarah's now conscious body, landed, and continued to slide for several feet.

The driver's side window on the black SUV whined, drawing Chuck's attention. He was anxious to meet his last minute rescuer. Chuck nearly fell over when the tinted window finally finished its journey.

"Casey!"

"Someone has to catch you when you fall Bartowski. Now get Walker and get in the car. The bad guys are coming," Casey growled, fighting off a smile.

Ignoring the feeling that he was in the Twilight Zone, Chuck scurried to Sarah's side. She was awake but groggy. He knelt next to her, unsure of what to do.

"Sarah, we have to get out of here. Casey said danger's coming," Chuck explained softly, shaking Sarah's shoulder.

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of Casey's name. She tried to pop to her feet, but intense dizziness caused her to slow down. "What is Casey doing here. I have to get you away," she slurred.

Giving Sarah a helping hand to her feet, Chuck shook his head in disagreement. "He's here to help. He saved me from Bryce."

Sarah's eyes widened again, as her memory of the preceding events returned. She had too many enemies to consider. It was exhausting. "Where is he? What happened?"

Chuck raised his free arm, pointing a finger in Bryce's direction. Sarah's followed his guidance. She took in the scene with a detached air. Turning back to Chuck, she placed a shaking hand on his chest.

"Please go wait in the car. I have to take care of something," she said.

"Sarah," Chuck warned.

Sarah clenched her fist in an attempt to fight off emotion. "Just please do this Chuck," she begged.

His only sign of agreement was his retreating figure. He kept his hand connected to her body as long as he could, but Sarah was quickly alone. She checked her body for weapons and injury, before confronting Bryce.

Blood puddled on the pavement around his head and leaked from his mouth. His breathing was labored. Sarah's mind concluded that he would die with or without her help. Cooperation would dictate the length of time.

Towering over Bryce's broken form, Sarah said, "Why did you do it? Why bring Chuck back into everything again?"

"Fulcrum wanted only Intersect," Bryce gasped, losing the will to lie.

"They wanted Chuck," Sarah assumed.

Bryce shook his head. "I was going to be Intersect."

Sarah's brows displayed obvious confusion. She wondered if Bryce was delirious from the pain. "Then why bring Chuck. I know Bob was the one who suggested it."

"To train me," Bryce whispered.

Fury erupted from Sarah's heart and coursed through her body. She quickly knelt beside Bryce, pressing a hand to his abdomen. He groaned in pain. "Use, abuse, and dispose, is that what you were going to do?"

The dying man's lack of a reply was enough of an answer for Sarah. "Damn you," she mumbled, looking to the sky for guidance. Her gaze was icy when it returned to Earth.

"OK Bryce, you have one shot at redemption. Tell me how to cure Chuck and I'll end things quickly," she offered, pulling a gun from her boot.

"Come closer," Bryce requested.

Sarah shook her head. "I don't think so."

Bryce began to laugh, like some hysterical villain from a badly reviewed horror movie. He knew he was going to die; Sarah knew he was going to die. There was nothing compelling him to be altruistic.

"There is no cure. He's going to die and there's nothing you can do about it. Shouldn't be long now," Bryce gloated, until a violent cough racked his body.

Sarah put her gun in a death grip. She threw her arms up in the air and angrily stalked away from Bryce. Seconds later, she returned, delivering several vicious kicks to his torso. "Damn you Bryce. Damn you. I can't believe I ever trusted you."

Bryce just continued to laugh.

Sarah secured her gun and jogged to the waiting SUV. Sliding into the passenger seat, she was greeted by the strangely comforting sight of John Casey. Chuck was eagerly leaning forward from his place in the backseat.

"You going to let him live Walker," Casey wondered, in the ambiguously judgmental way he had.

"He's going to die anyway," Sarah replied, bucking her seat-belt, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Casey chuckled, putting the car in drive. "You think the NSA stops caring just because you cart Chuck off to the loony bin?"

"Kind of. There are other matters of national security," Sarah replied.

Giving up his mysterious facade, Casey said, "We got chatter that something was going on here with Fulcrum. I heard through the grapevine that you and Bartowski were back together. Bartowski always brings trouble so I thought I'd give you a hand."

Sarah was about to give a sarcastic reply when a scream erupted from between them. Chuck clutched his head with both hands, throwing himself backwards. He continued to writhe on the leather upholstery, despite Casey and Sarah's protests.

"Chuck, Chuck what's wrong," Sarah asked, concern seeping from every pore.

"It hurts," he whined. Another bloodcurdling scream quickly followed. Chuck stamped his feet against the door in pain.

"Ahhhhh," Chuck yelled, before everything went black.


	11. When Two Years Feels Like A Second

_AN: Not really much I can say. My deepest apologies for the delay/abandonment. There are a lot of new people in the fandom since I last published anything. I hope my writing can still hang with the other great authors here. You'll probably want to reread the entire story. I know I had to. I'm determined to get this done before I go back to school on Aug 30th. Well, I hope you enjoy. It hasn't been beta read, so I'm sure there are mistakes I missed. Let me know of any shameful ones. Here we go..._

* * *

Chapter 11

When Two Years Feels Like A Second

**CIA FACILITY**

**Somewhere in Maryland**

The sound of Chuck's screams startled Casey so greatly that he left tire marks on the pavement in his haste to stop the SUV. Sarah, on the other hand, was transported back to a dark cell in the hills of Russia. Just like all those years before, Sarah was helpless to stop the screaming. It crashed into her ears and refused to stop until it had split her heart in two. Her guilt ridden mind couldn't discern the differences in the tone of the screams or the methods of restraint. She had never wanted to die more in her life.

"Walker. Snap out of it. Damn it," Casey said, putting the car in park and unfastening his seat-belt. Casting a glance toward the backseat, he saw that Chuck had maneuvered into a fetal position. The kid's howls of pain had dulled to heavy moaning and some mumbled nonsense about colors. He wasn't above a comforting pat on the shoulder, but Casey knew that only Sarah Walker could calm Bartowski in his current state.

He knew better than to touch an absentminded agent, so he once more used his booming voice to break through Sarah's fog. "WALKER!" he yelled, laying on the horn at the same time.

Casey saw awareness flood back into his partner's body and said a silent thank you to the movers of the universe. "Walker, we're in Maryland and Bartowski is in the backseat. We're not in whatever hellhole you were just revisiting. You need to get it together," he said, attempting to draw her further into the present.

Seeing that she was still a bit disoriented, he continued, "Chuck needs you, Sarah. He's hurt."

That did it. Walker slowly drew her eyes away from the windshield and cast them on Casey's face. The moisture filled eyes and pained expression were nearly Casey's undoing, but he refused to let his former teammates finally get to his soft side.

"Chuck?" Sarah questioned.

Casey nodded his head and then jerked it backward. Sarah followed his suggestion with her eyes. A gasp filled the SUV when she caught Chuck's writhing form. She immediately tried to jump to his rescue, but the seat-belt held her back. Still somewhat unaware of her surroundings, Sarah furiously pushed and pulled at the offending material. Her frantic noises penetrated Chuck's pain and he too began to struggle.

Casey would have laughed if the situation weren't so serious. His teammates really were a match made in heaven. If he didn't do something soon, they would both injure themselves before the fighting even began. Knocking Sarah's hands out of the way, he unbuckled her seat-belt and tossed it to the side. Once she realized that she was no longer impeded, she slithered into the backseat and pulled Chuck's upper body onto her lap.

"Chuck," she whispered. Her voice came out shaky and rough due to the overwhelming volume of emotions she had experienced in the previous ten minutes. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "Chuck, sweetie, it's Sarah. You're safe. Please come back to me," she pleaded.

Realizing that he was no longer watching a CIA agent protecting her asset, Casey refocused his attention on the flaming building in front of him. The scene behind him was that of a woman comforting, perhaps for the last time, the man she loved. Casey would not be moved by the scene. He refused.

Chuck could feel a shaking but soothing hand making its way down his face and through his hair. Only one touch had ever comforted him so. "Sarah?"

The words startled the female agent out of her detached routine of soothing motions and encouraging words. "I'm here, Chuck," she assured, pulling him in for a fierce hug. He was too weak to return her affection. When she pulled back from the embrace, she noticed his eyes attempting to open. She ran her thumb along the arch of his brow.

"It's OK, Chuck. Take your time."

"What happened," he wondered, finally managing to take in the blurry image of her tear-stained face.

Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but fear chocked off her words. Vocalizing their situation would make it all the more real. Chuck's eyes changed her mind. He needed her. He needed her to be honest, but most of all, he needed her to be strong.

"I'm getting worse aren't I," Chuck said, beating Sarah to the punch.

"Yes," she confirmed. Chuck's eyes closed in frustration, and Sarah felt an urgent need to reassure him. She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her.

"But we're going to fight it. We're going to do everything we can to solve this," she said, reassuring herself and Chuck at the same time.

Chuck gave her a small smile in acknowledgment.

"Aren't we, Casey," she said, raising her voice to bring her partner back into the fold. It was time she stopped dwelling on past hurt. She needed to take charge and Casey was the only one she trusted to help.

"Absolutely. Can't let you check out early, Bartowski," Casey answered, using his trademark humor.

"I'm sorry I allowed myself to be distracted," she said. It was a calculated statement to reassure Casey that she was prepared to carry out their mission. After searching for something in his partner's demeanor, he grunted and turned forward to restart the car. He was ready to walk back into the fire with Sarah Walker watching his six.

"Get us to Langley as fast as you can," Sarah ordered.

"Aye, aye," Casey joked. Putting the car into drive, he floored the pedal and moved toward the main drag. Chuck groaned at the jolting movements. Sarah was about to comfort him when she sensed the car slowing down. They had barely traveled three hundred feet.

"What's going on," she asked.

"We've got company," he said, gesturing outside and to the right of their vehicle.

Sarah carefully leaned over Chuck's still prone body and stretched to see what had captured Casey's interest. Shock overtook her mind, and she rubbed her eyes to be sure of what she was seeing. About ten yards ahead of them, Greg Swan was limping away from the destroyed CIA facility. The set of handcuffs she'd ordered Chuck to use still dangled from his leg. There was a smear of blood on his brow, and he was covered in dirt but otherwise unharmed. What really concerned her was the gun clutched in his right hand.

Sarah gently eased Chuck into a sitting position behind the driver's seat. Whispering a few words of reassurance, she moved to exit the vehicle. Casey handed her the gun she'd lost during her fight with the seatbelt. She tucked it into the space between her back and waist of her pants. No sense in going out guns blazing she reasoned. The analyst already thought she was a traitor who had left him inside the building to die.

"Cover me," she said to Casey. He nodded his agreement. "I don't think he'll try anything. He's just an analyst, but sometimes they surprise you," she joked, casting a mischievous smile Chuck's way. His head was resting against the window, but he opened his eyes enough to roll them. The part of him that wasn't wracked with pain appreciated her humor.

Sarah opened the passenger door and exited the vehicle. Casey rolled down the SUV's windows so he could be aware of any developing trouble. He didn't want to let Walker out there alone, but he knew an unfamiliar face could easily spook the distressed analyst. As things stood, she had a pretty hard sell to make.

Sarah's thoughts mirrored those of her partner. Swan would not readily accept her story no matter how truthful. Knowing this, she shut the car door and walked forward with her hands in the air. She wanted to show the young guy that she wasn't a threat. He didn't need to know that she had a gun at her back and knives at her thigh.

"I'm glad you made it out," she started.

The younger man snorted in disbelief and wiped sweat from his eyes. "You left me there to die!"

Sarah shook her head in disagreement. "That was not my intention. Fulcrum executed an attack on the facility."

"You mean you attacked it," he interrupted, raising his gun.

She heard Casey growl in disgust, but she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Come on, Greg. You're not really going to shoot me."

Greg tightened his grip on the weapon and disengaged the safety. "I may not be a field agent, but I certainly know how to put a bullet between your eyes," he spat.

Sarah was having none of it.

"No! I am not part of Fulcrum. There are things going on that even I don't understand. I'm being set up. I had to get Chuck out of there. I'm sorry we left you behind," she said, trying to soften her words. The last thing she needed was to get shot by a fellow desk jockey.

Greg lowered his gun slightly and glanced at the SUV. "Is Chuck okay?"

Sarah almost smiled. Chuck's uncanny ability to make friends would never cease to amaze her. It appeared that he had won the loyalty and respect of the chief analyst behind the Beta Intersect program. They could certainly use the help.

"Relatively. He had a major attack of pain and disorientation, but he is lucid now." She let the state of Chuck's health sink in for a moment before dropping her bombshell.

"We think that Bob Smart is behind the virus and a member of Fulcrum," she explained.

Greg physically deflated. His gun wielding arm dropped to his side, and his grip loosened. It was not the reaction Sarah had anticipated. She expected Swan to become even more aggravated and demand an explanation for her ludicrous proclamation.

"You don't seem surprised," Sarah observed.

"I'm not. I've suspected something for a while," he answered.

Sarah raised her eyebrows in astonishment. "Why?"

"He's been using the assets strangely the last few months. Giving them unscheduled uploads and debriefing them personally. I discretely broached the subject with Susan, but she wouldn't hear it. There was nothing I could do," he reasoned.

Sarah resisted the urge to lash out at the man in front of her. If he had followed up more on his suspicions, Chuck might not be on the verge of death. So much could have been prevented. Her rational side, however, remained in control. Yelling at the person who could help save the man she loved was not tactically effective.

"We think he's planning a coup on The Agency. All this commotion with the failing Intersects caused quite a stir. The heads of every department are meeting at headquarters to discuss. We think that's where the next Fulcrum strike will be," she explained.

Greg seemed stunned to inaction. Sarah lost her patience.

"We have to go now. We need to stop the attack and he may know how to save Chuck," she urged.

Her words snapped Greg out of his stupor. A look of excitement crossed his face. "I know how to save Chuck. I figured it out," he stated.

Sarah felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She had another ally to help in her quest.

"Well, I haven't figured it _all_ out, but I'm pretty sure I understand the nature of the problem," he rambled on.

Sarah felt Chuck's time slipping away with every word he spoke. Greg didn't have the antidote readily available, and they still had a country to save. There was no time for him to geek out, so Sarah strode up to him and removed the gun from his hand. Greg was startled by the swiftness of her action, but any words of protest died when she dragged him to the SUV. Pushing him into the seat next to Chuck, she took her spot next to Casey and slammed the door.

"Casey drive," she ordered, "Greg, explain what you discovered."

Both men followed her commands. Some of her stress was lifted by the mere fact that they were moving closer to a place where she could kick someone's ass. Any elation was tempered by Chuck's distressed face. Greg's words broke through her contemplation, and she moved to give him her full attention.

"We were essentially right with our previous postulations. The information you…uh, Bob uploaded was corrupted. We were wrong about the nature of the virus though. It didn't actively seek to destroy the host. Instead, it altered the basic functioning of a flash," he said, looking at Sarah for some sort of compliment or encouragement. She simply stared back at him with the barest hint of patience.

"Ok. Uh…where was I. Normally, when a human intersect flashes it only activates the information for a limited period of time. This virus reprogrammed that code so that the information is constantly circulating and being analyzed. The off switch has been removed. It's like Chuck said, the machines are overheating," he concluded.

"How," Sarah questioned. She tried to keep her voice even, but her insides were churning at the realization that this code treated Chuck and the other Intersects as nothing more than machines.

"I'm not entirely sure. The building was hit just as I had isolated the code," he said, sadly.

Sarah ran a frustrated hand through her hair. Casey tightened his grip on the steering wheel as Chuck's prospects darkened. "Do you have any idea what it could be or how to fix it," Sarah questioned.

Greg looked thoughtfully at Chuck. He wanted desperately to help his new-found friend. "It could be a number of things. The orientation of the images, their color, or a single embedded photo in every larger image," he explained.

Sarah felt desperation at Greg's words. The Intersect facility had been destroyed and they still weren't sure what could save the only remaining human Intersect.

Casey, on the other hand, allowed a spark of hope to form in his mind at Greg's deductions. "Did you say the color of the images could have been altered?"

Greg looked at the big man in puzzlement. "Yes. That's one of the many possibilities. Why?"

The grin the erupted on Casey's face made the analyst uncomfortable. Sarah wondered if he had finally lost his mind. Casey just basked in the glory of having figured out Bartowski's dilemma and the future possibility of gun play.

"Earlier, when Bartowski had his episode, he was mumbling something about two different colors. What exactly is the importance of the image color?"

Sarah was thoroughly confused, but Greg rubbed his hands together in excitement. "We use two different colors to code the Intersect images. One initiates the retrieval process; the other ends it. The last embedded image of a stimulus photo is always the same color."

"What are the colors," Sarah demanded, sensing that they were close to a breakthrough.

Greg searched his mind for the answer. He had two federal agents hanging on his every word and a new friend whose life depended on it.

"Brown and blue."


	12. When Jokes Get Drop Dead Serious

_AN: I finished this chapter ten minutes before I published it. I read through it a few times, but no beta. It's not that I don't care; I just really want to get this finished. There should only be a few more chapters. It's taking me longer than I'd like to get the story where I want it to go. I broke this one in half, so the action comes back in the next chapter._

**Chapter 12- When Jokes Get Drop Dead Serious**

**CIA HQ**

**0020 Hours  
**

The black, heavily armored SUV pulled up to the curb outside of CIA Headquarters. Casey, Sarah, and Greg hurriedly exited the vehicle. Casey tossed the car's keys to Sarah who held them out for Greg. Before she relinquished possession, she forced Greg to make eye contact.

"I don't care if you have to break into a BuyMore but get whatever equipment you need and get the virus out of Chuck's head," she ordered, a fiery passion boiling beneath her words.

"Permission to break any and all laws. Got it," Greg joked, trying to play down the terror Sarah struck in him.

Sarah attacked, grabbing his wrist and wrenching him towards her. She was about to let out a litany of curses when she saw the fear in Greg's eyes. It reminded her of a look she'd often seen in a set of brown eyes. Sarah dropped the analyst's wrist and took a step back from the situation.

"I'm sorry. I know you don't mean to take it lightly," she said, her eyes sliding to the darkly tinted window that hid Chuck's frame, "just please be quick and – take care of him."

"I promise," he said with all the authority he could muster. Retrieving the keys from Sarah's hand, he retreated to Casey's side to give her some privacy.

Sarah took a calming breath and eased open the passenger side rear door. Chuck was still unconscious in the opposite seat, so Sarah simply leaned into the car with her upper body. Taking a moment to run her hands all over Chuck's body, she tried to memorize his image. She never wanted to forget his face. Placing a tender kiss on his chapped lips, she moved her mouth to his ear.

"I'm sorry. I love you. I'll fight for you."

As Sarah shut the door, Casey and Greg pretended they weren't eavesdropping on the intimate moment. Sarah saw right through their ruse but chose to ignore it.

"Ready to kick ass, Walker," Casey asked.

"Of course," she replied.

"Then vest up," he said, tossing her the traditional battlefield attire with all of the necessary accoutrements.

"You keep these in your car," she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Casey indicated his displeasure with her comment with a snarl. "Of course I do. What do you take me for? Some F.B.I. floozy?"

"Never," Sarah replied, cracking a bit of a smile. Warfare did always make her giddy.

Finishing her gear preparation, Sarah turned to Greg. "You better get going. Take him to the address in your pocket. We'll meet you there once we're done here."

Greg skeptically shoved his hands into his pants pockets and withdrew a slip of white paper that hadn't been there ten minutes prior. "How…when did you…who are you people," he wondered, flabbergasted.

Casey cracked perhaps the fifth or sixth smile of his life and took the reply out of Sarah's hand. "We're spies, Swan. We're the best."

"Spy humor. I've never understood it," he said as he opened the driver's door. "Let's go Chuck. We've gotta save the day."

As they drove off into the moonlight, Sarah did her best to get into a professional mindset. She tried to trust that Greg was the best at his job and could deliver on his promise to rid Chuck of the hostile program. At the very least, he was competent with computers. People don't get to be third in command of a high priority government black project by failing miserably. But how much trust could she really put in the government? They employed and trusted Bob the bastard Smart and Bryce the ass Larkin. Greg could easily be carting Chuck off to an undisclosed location where he will never again see the light of day. All so she could fulfill some twisted sense of duty.

A hard shove to the shoulder knocked her forward a step and brought reality back into focus. "Get the lead out, Walker. We've got your precious CIA to save," Casey scolded.

Sarah was having none of his games. She holstered her weapons and strode determinedly toward the burly NSA agent. She forcefully snapped both of her hands into his chest. Casey barely moved.

"I didn't have to come out here," he said.

"I know, but we're equals in this. I'm not going to break. I'm ready," Sarah said, determination oozing from her pores.

Casey's eyes showed healthy skepticism, but his head nodded in agreement. "Then let's kill some spooks," he offered in peace.

Sarah turned her back on her partner and high-tailed it toward the entrance.

"You sure it's wise to go in through the _main_ entrance," Casey questioned, easily keeping up with Sarah's rapid steps.

"We're not going in the main entrance," she answered.

Casey raised an eyebrow and grunted. "Could have fooled me."

"That's the point."

Instead of taking the time to explain things to Casey's thick scull, Sarah approached a drinking fountain twenty feet to the right of Langley's main entrance. She put her hand on the nozzle and adjusted the knob in a concentrated series of motions. The ground below the fountain slid away to reveal a descending staircase. With a grin on her face, Sarah turned to face Casey.

His expression of disbelief was priceless. "You've got to be kidding me. You agency types take movies way too seriously."

"It's a chicken or egg type of thing. Now get down there before our time runs out," she urged, taking a step backwards.

Casey balked. "Where exactly is 'down there'?"

Sarah rolled her eyes at his untimely antics. "A super secret elevator. Now get moving and I'll explain on the way."

Begrudgingly, Casey put one foot into the dark entrance. He wasn't sure his body would fit, but he'd long ago vowed to follow Sarah Walker into the pits of hell if it meant saving a certain annoying nerd.

Quickly following her partner down the stairs, Sarah launched into her hopefully reassuring explanation. "This is one of the Director's emergency exits. There's an elevator at the end of the hall that only stops at his office."

"And you just happen to have the code," Casey questioned, finally reaching level ground. The tunnel was dimly lit but clean. He could see the small, one-man elevator less than fifty yards ahead.

"And I just happen to have the code," Sarah mocked, "Look Casey, I'm Graham's protégée. If he makes it through to the next President, I'm to be his DDCI. He's already essentially made me his second in command. So, yes, I have the code."

Sarah's high-strung defense lasted the length of the tunnel. Casey didn't acknowledge her response. Instead, he leaned back against the wall and waited. Huffing in displeasure at his antics, Sarah quickly punched in her authorization code. When the elevator doors opened, Casey let out snort/grunt hybrid. Sarah would later label it a grort.

"Don't try to cop a feel, Walker," he said, squeezing into the small confines.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Sarah replied, nudging in beside him. The agents' gear made it an incredibly tight fit. Sarah just hoped they wouldn't have to make any sudden moves out of the elevator. They may very well be stuck.

"And up we go," she narrated as the elevator gears started turning.

**Virginia Suburbs**

Greg Swan shifted the SUV into fourth gear. The car's jolting drew a groan from the semi-conscious backseat passenger.

"Sorry, buddy," Greg said, keeping a cautious eyes on the speedometer. He knew time was of the utmost importance but getting pulled over by a bloodthirsty cop wouldn't help anything. The CIA didn't give 'Get Out of Jail Free' cards to their run of the mill analysts.

"So where do you think we should go Chuck? As long as I have internet access and decent computing power I can rewrite the code, but I'll need a high res screen and serious ware under the hood to actually run the images to you," Greg reasoned, frequently glancing at the rearview mirror to look at Chuck.

"It's not like we can go to the public library, but maybe one of the other government buildings around here. I wish Agent Casey had given us access to NSA headquarters. I mean we could try throwing ourselves at the mercy of the court or…"

Greg's rambling was silenced by an approaching road sign. Taking the indicated exit, his anxiety grew. He was about to break at least five state laws for a man he barely knew. His mother would not be happy.

"Well, Agent Walker, it's no BuyMore," he joked, pulling into an empty BestBuy parking lot.

_End AN: Since these have become so popular. In the next chapter, Chuck (sort of) finally wakes up. Laws are broken. Sarah and Casey make it out of the elevator. Let me know what you think._


End file.
